A Thundering of Profits
by Jad4400
Summary: A rogue trader and his fleet are blown into the Mass Effect Universe. As they cruise the galaxy looking for adventure, power and most importantly profit they must survive the many challenges ahead. One of which is the fleet of Kaptain Bludchoppa, a Freeboota bent on pillaging the galaxy! Caught in the crossfire, the peoples of the Mass Effect universe must scramble to survive.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Just Another Day**

"Ladar sweeps complete captain, nothing on screen...as usual" Parvik said looking at his monitor, the only blip present, as always, was the _Belchick_.

"Good news then, keep up the scans" captain Rallus said looking from behind his command dais. "We'll make several more passes before we move to Gendara"

Week seven into their ten week rotation on the frontier and the most interesting find their small frigate had come across was an errant asteroid possibly on collision course for an uninhabited moon. Patrolling the frontier may sound like a life of adventure until one realized how large space was. While the odd patrol occasionally found something the waves of explorers before had missed, more often than not, it was just following the already blazed trails to make sure no one set up a drug lab behind it. A septuple star system was the only really interesting things to be found in the Arakanian Plateau. The border between Citadel space and the Terminus was not on the top of anyone's list when it came to colonization, except for maybe the humans. Frigates like the _Belchick_ mostly made cursory probes around the numerous stars to make sure nothing too illicit was going on. If it was the rare pirate fleet, slaver base or something else that a military grade frigate couldn't handle, it was just one jump back to the comm buoy at the relay, and one of the outer patrol fleets could come streaming in.

Parvik was glad for the dull assignment. In truth he knew better than to wish for some excitement, he'd seen enough vids to know that doing that would just tempt fate, and likely invite some kind of doom that neither he nor his ship would survive. No, better to keep praying to the spirits for drudgery, another year and he'd be done with his mandatory service. An uninteresting career in uninteresting space. Dull, but at least he'd be alive.

The captain he knew felt the same way. He was a lifer, true, but unlike the common human imagination of Turians, he wasn't some jumped up hot head looking to prove himself or get in good with command like that one idiot had several years ago when he decided to make some human ships target practice. Rallus was steady, more than willing to put in the time with these patrols, knowing that each one without incident meant his crew got to go home happy and alive, and a few young ones got to finish their service and be done with fleet life. Sure he painted his face like any other captain would be expected to, giving that air of command, aloofness and discipline, but he'd known when to let enough things slide to get a reasonably enthusiastic and competent crew. On small ships like theirs, it was all they needed.

Parvik daydreamed for a moment about visiting some friends on Palavan before activating the next sweep. The loud buzz shook him out of it though, looking on screen there was a massive energy signature that hadn't been there just moments earlier. Initial numbers came in putting the new contact in the "oh shit" category. The captain was already at station and calmly issuing his orders as the reports came. The drive core spun up to top speed and Parvik felt the small changes in gravity as acceleration kicked into high gear.

"Any other signatures?" the captain asked

"Negative sir. Too much background, we'll need to get closer"

He nodded and typed out the commands on his omni-tool. Ahead, Parvik knew the pilots were receiving the text commands and making the course alterations. If they followed normal protocol, they'd come up, get a few pics of whatever was out there and drive like hell back to the relay. Anything that made a readout that size would be squarely in the "too big for a frigate to handle" category. Struggling at his own controls, he used LADAR, thermals, EM's, anything to try and get a better picture of whatever was out there.

"Getting some readings...It's pretty big captain...can't be right, its saying its three and a half klicks long. Rescanning….still reporting that length."

"Is it a space station?" the captain asked looking at his own displays as Parvik forwarded the information. As the Ladar finally got a better outline of...whatever it was, he responded "Negative captain, there seems to be thrust modules on the back, that thing's a ship." Squinting at his display he added "ugly ass one too" He knew Rallaus wouldn't mind the salt in his worlds, if anything the captain nodded in agreement as he looked at the image.

The "ship" looked like three and half klicks of scrap metal, odd ends were jutting out of its signature and it looked like radiation leaks were all around its hull. the thing was a wreck, though if it was from battle, age, or something else he couldn't tell. A beep alerted him.

"More signatures, looks like several more ships out there, ranging from half a klick to three point two" he reported. He tried to find if they matched any ship in the registry, only mega freighters and dreadnoughts matched anywhere close to those sizes. The terminal drew a blank just like him.

"Okay let's turn this ship around!" the captain said as he typed out the confirmation to the helm. "We'll get back an…"

"Comms message sir" the communications officer whose name Parvik always forgot said, "Coming over general comms"

A thick guttural voice came from the ship. Mixed with grunts, the deepness of it was disconcerting, as they struggled to listen the voice finished with a loud roar. All Parvik understood was the loud thunderous roar, which echoed through his headset.

"WAAGGH!"

As the roar echoed through his comms, the _Belchick_ shook violently and Parvik felt his head slam forward before he blacked out...

 **Begin Journal**

 _ **From the hand of Captain Josiah Patternock Merriweather von Helvik**_

The past few days have been a strange convergence of events that quite frankly would strain the credulity of all but the most ardent and steadfast listeners, yet nevertheless, I feel obligated record my thoughts about said events as they occur.[1]

My name is Captain Josiah Patternock Merriweather von Helvik[2], gallant and steadfast (of my own personal assessment of character anyhow) Rogue Trader in service to our most glorious Emperor and unfortunate victim of the horrid nature of the inscrutable Immaterium.[3]

Less than one hour ago (according to our chronos)[4] my ship _The Legitimate Business Acquisition_ along with my attendant fleet was locked in mortal combat with a fleet of Ork warships under the command of one Kaptain Bludchoppa, a notorious freeboota who plied his most vicious trade along the few secure warp routes in the Itano sector.

As a policy I try and shy away from fleet engagements when at all possible. Each macrocannon shell expended and each hit scored against my ships means more thrones out of my family's vaults, to say nothing of all the extra promethium and other volatiles burned. When all's said and done it's much easier to have spent a small fortune in bribes to ensure a medium sized fortune isn't expended on basic maintenance, repair and resupply. To say nothing of the avoidance of the tedious speeches necessary to boost morale following the typical burial rituals and rites of afterlife such battles produce.

But anyhow…

We were preparing to depart the forge world Beypore at the time. I had opted to take most of the family fleet not already assigned to guard duty elsewhere protecting our interests or otherwise tied up in various drudgery that's needed to ensure the flow of thrones to our coffers. Not only would this help to significantly increase the bulk of our transportation, but it would also provide an adequate number of guard ships for our cargo. After generations of wrangling with the various Magoses and Beypore's erstwhile Fabricator Generals who rose and fell to office like a predictable pendulum, I had finally managed to secure the last of the equipment needed to fortify my family's prize in the sector.

Helvik's Prize orbits a large gas giant in the further reaches of the Itano Sector. Discovered nearly twelve generations ago by one of my great great, great, great, great, great, great grandfathers (I believe it was Barnab or Mikiael) the planet is one of a quartet of large moons, each roughly the size of holy Terra herself. Surrounding the gas giant they orbit is an asteroid thicket rich in Adamatium, and volatiles useful for starship fuel and other combustibles which keep the Imperium running. All in all its one of the richest systems found in in the history of exploration of the Itano sector.

A more short sighted individual would have seen the value in a quick strip-mining operation, requisition the population of a penal world or two, drop them on the rocks, demand a quota of minerals in exchange for oxygen, excreta, excreta , excreta and a couple generations later you'd have gotten a decent fortune before the inevitable toll of mining, space, mutiny and mutation would bring an end to the endeavor.[5] My erstwhile relative instead consolidated on the largest moon, and used long cultivated ties with the Administratum, Mechanicus and Emperor knows who else to began the foundation of an industrial colony. While a pale imitation of even the most impoverished of forge worlds, nevertheless our planet has grown to become something of a point of pride in Itano. My family controls the hab spires, the denizens of the planet, their thrones (with occasional tithes of men and equipment to the Administratum naturally), and the smaller factories that come with hab spires to manufacture the necessities that keep an orderly hive and maintain a healthy trade balance.[6] Meanwhile our allies in the Mechanicus control small isolated embassies scattered across the world and its spires. These manufactorum make larger weapons, gear, necessities needed for the continuation of the Imperium's multitude of war efforts across the Segmentum Tempestus. My family supplies the space, the minerals and the manpower[7] needed to keep everything going, and in return the AdMech is kind enough to "gift" us .5% of the total production of their forges on Helvik's Pride.[8]

I write all this not to boast, but to state simply that what I'd arraigned with the Mechanicus was quite possibly going to be the crux of a new wave of unprecedented wealth for my family. I'd convinced the Fabricator General of Beypore to create a modest manufactorum dedicated to the production of planetary defense lasers on Helvik's Pride. With a 2% yield going to my family (on top of the promise to first furnish Helvik's Pride with defenses), the export market for large scale las weaponry, especially in such a volatile sector was going to allow us to make unprecedented levels of thrones. I'd spent several years preparing the planet for the manufactorum's arrival. Large mining machines were acquired to increase metal output, new crops of workers were "convinced" to settle in the hab spires[9] and our final transport of the factory components, along with accompanying Admech personnel was the reason for my assembled convoy. This was on top of the grease palming, assurances, favors done and called in with various Administratum personnel to ensure that such a deal would be sanctioned and I wouldn't have to deal with an Imperial Fleeting coming to know where their tithes were. All the pieces were in place.

So of course, things went off the rails.

An Inquisitor by the name of Ermelanth piloted a gun cutter to my ship and messaged my astropath, demanding a meeting. Now as a good citizen of the Imperium I was more than happy to oblige, but as a Rogue Trader I cringed. I'd had dealings with the Emperor's daggers before and none of them ended pleasantly, my last earning me the bionic eye I now wear. But I bared my teeth and welcomed Ermlanth aboard my ship. The Inquisitor was a scrawny middle aged man accompanied by a half dozen retainers, though I only remember the almost Ogyen sized stormtrooper accompanying him and the small rotund woman in purple robes whom I'm sure was the psyker.[10] Ermelanth in turn feigned the niceties expected of an agent of the Inquisition meeting with a high ranking social better, which is it say a power maul would have been more subtle and graceful than that man. He gallingly demanded that my fleet make for the opposite direction of our planned journey and head towards a septuple of stars near the Naraka Anomaly[11], claiming that a rise in greenskin activity necessitated immediate action. Worse, he said ALL ships were needed, so my transports, small escorts and even the _Heculiean_ [12] and _Ricanteu_ [13] were to come as well. While the Acquisition and several of our ships were indeed quite capable of warfare, our transports were not, and despite my pleading and admonishments, the Inquisitor would not budge. Even with prodding from the Mechanicus (who were none too pleased to send their manufactorum components into battle) we had to plug our course and fly to what I thought would be certain doom.

The journey there could fill pages of journal entries alone. For the abridged version, I attended the beatification of another shipboard saint in the Cathedral of Saint von Helvik[14] and had to diffuse a theological crisis. I then officiated a wedding between two warring members of the Reactor Clans and had to navigate the traitorous courtly intrigue that always follows our reactor attendants. Finally one of the murder servitors got loose and rampaged through deck AA-12 before vanishing into the vents. Finding it is still on the to-do list.

Ermelanth and his people remained in their gun cutter for most of the voyage, sending only the rotund psyker out on occasion to send messages to me in person, rather than having her contact my astropaths like the proper channels and decorum demands! For nearly two weeks I put up with this torturous lack of manners! I thought my days couldn't get any worse.

Then we arrived in system.

The anomaly itself was some distance away, around it, purple eddies of energy swirled and sparked, despite us being in space. I felt a shiver go down my spine upon seeing it. All the activity seemed to indicate the anomaly was in an active phase, which meant a greater possibility of warp complications. I'm not one to shy away from duty and devotion, but even the most stern of men would face concerns and fears when looking to the hellish nether region of space. Trailing the anomaly was the long trail of dead ships and rocks, and surrounding them was one of the largest Freeboota fleets I'd ever lain eyes on. Dozens of ramshackle brown and grey craft lumbering around the void, spewing green and yellow trails of exhaust and Emperor knows what else behind their ships. What was alarming though was the number of ships following the Train of Condemnation. It would appear the kunning[15] Orks were picking through the myriad of ships, scraping what they found useful and putting aboard their own ships, while making crude repairs and random bits of orkification to ships they seemed to want to add to their fleet[16]. Already apart from the Roks,they'd converted three large ships with more bearing signs or being in the orkification process.

"Kaptain Bludchoppa" Ermlanth said sneaking up on me in my bridge. How he'd done so I know not, but he was their with his little coterie. "He's camping out along the anomaly, building his strength. At the rate he's going, our estimates indicate he'll be capable of launching his own WAARGH through the sector in less than five years. A Freeboota with that many ships would attract many to his cause". While the uncouth Inquisitor had ruffled my feathers on many occasions,[17] he was right, a WAAGH would be bad enough for the sector, but one so mobile would be far worst. I'd seen the destruction rained by Kaptain Shootkilla and the infamous Warboss Barrlogutz. My family had lost several holdings to those particular WAARGHS. I knew at once this greenskin needed to be put in his place.

Without hesitating, I raised a shipboard vox "Prepare the Litanies of Purgnation!"[18] I ordered as a klaxon brought the _Acquisition_ to life. Below, I was certain crews were running to their stations, families going to their ancestral assembly and defense points, gun crews attending to the guns their fathers and fathers before had serviced, ready to hoist and haul the mighty macrocannon rounds for our broadsides. In the rear of the ship though, the Litanies were being prepared, Magos Brith and his inner circle would be beginning the rituals and incantations to unleash the Acquisitions nova cannon. Holding only a handful of shots, each gargantuan shell was individually blessed as its volatiles were inspected and cleared, with the ship's machine spirit entering a communion with the tech priests to ensure a bountiful launch. Over the vox I heard the Magos and his handpicked men and women performing the incantation. I closed my eyes and imagines being there, watching as they affixed parchments of prayers with sacred wax seals, the final prayers and release as the shell completed its journey from deep vault storage to launch housing. Almost half an hour passed as I heard the last cant of "Omnissiah guide our hand, zero zero zero one one one zero one, protocol up-link 3 activated zero zero one one, Omnissiah protect, Omnissiah cache data, Omnissiah calculate checksum. Praise the machine spirits". A green light shined in the bridge, the cannon was ready.

The _Aquisition_ dimmed for several minutes as the ship's plasma reactor built sufficient charge, the machine spirits exerting herculean effort to manage the power balance as a massive electrical charge built. As red sensor lights began to go off, the ship shook as the nova cannon fired.

I watched on the monitors as the shell crossed the void, plowing towards the ork ships. Surprisingly, they hadn't moved to engage us, either unaware we were there, apathetic, or more likely arguing over who got lead the charge. After several minutes the shell burst near the center of the their force. A perfect hit, the Emperor smiled on us that day! The feed showed several ork ships broken by the explosion, while at least three were heavily damaged, the gargantuan ship still moved, though it was venting atmosphere. Screen capture showed many greenskins pulled into the void.

All of the sudden we received a hail on our vox, answering , I heard the yells of what I could only assume to be the Ork Kaptain of the freebootas

"Oie ya gitz. Ya scratched my kroozer up. I'll krump ya good I will! Ya hearz me, zoged, all of yas!" After that, the ork ships began scream towards my modest fleet.

Now while each of my ships could fight with the ferocity of ten of the Emperor's finest battleships, the unfortunate reality was that even with such bravery, our ships were outnumbered by at least a four to one, and not all my ships were front line fighters. I steeled myself for a vicious fight, fighters were prepared in their launch bays and macrocannons stood ready. Arch-Bishop Vilma was voxxing prayers and incantations to boost morale and put the strength of the emperor in all my people. Captain Caraphan and her armsmen stood by ready to repel the boarders who were sure to come.

The orks opted to cross our T so we got three salvos in. The ship vibrating familiarly as the hail of heavy shells crossed space and slammed into the ork ships. We'd just destroyed a smaller kroozer when the Anomaly exploded. Not literally, but the energies fanned out, we were unprepared for this and hadn't had our Gellar fields raised. I won't lie, I feared the worst, and worried I was doomed to spend an eternity in the Warp suffering all kinds of horrific maladies and worst.[19] The ship rattled and shook and the energy washed over us and I felt us pulled in a million and a half directions, not even in the worst throes of combat had the Acquisition shook. My third favorite crystal chandelier fell off its housing and crushed one of the precious bridge servitors and two other crew members. After what felt like an eternity, the shaking stopped and I found myself looking out into a calm area of space, my fleet still close by, but the orks long gone.

In their place was a strange xeno artifact. A silver fork shaped device with a gyroscope like construct housed in its rear. More investigations will follow.

But anyways, I retire for my daily micro nap. Once I'm refreshed I'll hope to learn more from my crew about the situation.

More importantly though, what price could I fetch for this strange device?

…

"Uh…Kaptin?"

"Wot?!"

"Wes uh,, seem to 'ave lost dem 'umies dat scratched ya kroozer."

"Wot?! 'Ows dat possble like? Da 'umies er 'ust dere!?

"Dunno Kaptin, dis seems like a whole uvva place dis is."

"Da loot?! Ah zog, da lootz all gone too?!

"Kapin! Sumthin on the screen! Sum kinda ship loks like!"

An angular, almost eagle shaped ship moved through space, quickly, but with a kind of rapid closing of the distance that Kaptain Bludchoppa could see as someone trying to say "Oie, stay back or I smash yas in!" It was tiny, hardly the size on of their roks, but with their train of wrecks gone, it'd have to do."

Grinning a toofy smile, he opened a vox.

"Oi! Datz a fancy ship ya gotz dere! I finkz I'll take it! Roll out da Big Zappa boyz!"

Deep in the bowls of the _Blud Choppa's Choppa_ , a number of scavenged powercells and generators fired up as their attendant meks ran from station to station, some let vents spew radioactive yellow clouds of gas and other refuse to keep the system engaged, while others smacked pipes, tubes and housings to get everything to work properly. On the ship's bow, several large scrap metal barrels whirled around and aimed for a single spot in space. A powerful charge built in their rusted out capacitors, and as electricity cracked and lashed out, frying unfortunate snotlings too close to the array, the waship began to rattle as the build of of energy began to shake it. The Kaptain and his boyz eagerly jumped up and down. Suddenly, the barrels discharged, and a massive beam of light fired into space. With a single voice, the whole crew let lose with a massive warcry of "WAAAGGH!" followed the beam as it bored through the unfortunate Turian frigate.

[1] And I dictate to my autoquill to make note of random anecdotes and various family history bits and banalities, all to be located at the bottom of each page, least my resplendent words be broken in their flow by long parentheses. Grandmother said my prose and grammar were too purple and superfluous.

[2] The 7ths or 9th, Josiah Patternock Merriweather von Helvik the sixth vanished sometime in M39 following a merry chase across the Segmentum Pacificus, and his "twin" named the same turned up a year later.

[3] And that damned Inquisitor didn't help things either. Wait no! Don't write tha…Damnable quill!

[4] I personally have no inclination of its synchronization with the local systems we currently find ourselves in. Also I apologize to any future reader of my logs, but yes we are in a vastly different place. I'd change things, but I can't get this quill to delete things!

[5]Or in the case of my Aunt Guinevere, end up thee kilometers deep in a hollowed comet and flung at the sun.

[6] Algae scrap rations, recycled water, lasguns, amasec, medical supplies, lasguns, bars of adamatium, small novelty figures on my family members, lasguns, #4 model servos, plasteel, ceramite and lasguns.

[7]Servitor-applicants

[8]To the uninformed this seems criminally low, but bear in mind the sheer quantity of goods made in a dedicated forge numbers in astronomically high numbers, so even the miniscule amounts we manage to extract still are quite high. Comfortably we can afford to furnish several world's worth of PDC's with Leman Russ Tanks each year. By the third year of our "Wolf Run" trade routes, my branch of the family had doubled its fortune. Turns out there is a high demand for off the record main battle tanks.

[9]Nine to a room is more than enough space.

[10] The blindfold and staff didn't do much to dissuade me of that opinion.

[11] A weakening of the material world and the vile twisted Immaterium, the Naraka Anomaly is a semi-permanent warp rift that periodically tears open and spills warp storms and foul daemons into Itano Sector. Several gravity wells form spontaneously around the purple field, filled with the broken chucks of planets and the remains of thousands of ships taken when the rift opens and pulls. Because of this, this long train of broken planets, dead ships and enslaved asteroids known as the Train of Condemnation. My magos, Brith says that some theorize the Train will slowly coalesce and form into a kind of super space hulk, imbued with an eldritch intelligence and insatiable hunger for life and will ply the stars once it achieves enough mass.

[12] A Goliath Factory Ship, wrestled from Space Hulk _Wandering Judgement_ in M38 by Leandra von Helvik

[13] A Viper Class Scout Sloop, gifted to one of my grandfathers in M37 for service rendered in the "matters of political delicacies needed to maintain a harmonious Imperium".

[14]No relation.

[15] To use the crude Orkish terminology.

[16]Surprisingly though, most of the converted ships and debris in the field were asteroids, turned into Roks.

[17]What kind of man drinks amasec out of a plastic flask, seriously?!

[18]My second favorite litany, right after the Litany of Prosperity.

[19] A fate forced upon my half brother twice removed Bruce. May the Emperor's light find him on that festering Nurgalite world.

 _A/N Welcome to A Thundering of Profits, the story of a Rogue Trader Fleet, Ork Kaptain and the freak warpstrom that changed a galaxy. I love Mass Effect and 40K and I'm a sucker for a good alternate first contact story so I finally decided to write one my self._

 _I wanted to (at least try) something different though, rather than going with space marines or an odd sector force, Eldar or guardsmen, I went with the two groups that are always good for an adventure and not much for letting anyone, xeno or human (because this is first contact for the humans in the ME galaxy too), get in the way of their love of fighting and profit, Orks and a Rogue Trader. For those unfamiliar with the latter, a Rogue Trader is in essence a private individual empowered by the Imperium to go beyond it's borders to explore, meet and trade with/conquered/enslave/ and or exterminate xenos they meet. Owners of vast wealth and influence, these men and women care can hold a number of views and beliefs (from aliens are great, lets trade, to die xeno scum), but all are driven by the brutal quest for profit and power. For those curious about the Traders, this AAR of a 40K RPG is a wonderful introduction. When I say Von Helvik has a fleet and a planet with ties to the Mechanicus and other high officials in power, that's something common Rogue Traders enjoy. Josiah Von Helvik would probably be a mid tiered Rogue Trader when compared to other established families._

 _Despite the general HFY nature of the 40K universe, I'm hoping to keep this fic grounded in the realistic ME universe seeing the horrors of the 40k universe on hand._

 _Anyways I hope you all enjoy, I also post this story on Spacebattles, though my versions may be a bit rougher._


	2. Chapter 2

"Wot woz dat?" Kaptain Bludchoppa yelled as the ship vanished from screen "Wez jus tapped dat ship wif da zappa!"

"Dunno kap'n, iz jus popped like uh squig dat atez unnuver squig" Mek Gobshack answered looking at the screens through his scrap metal eye. "Dat dere jus ain't proppa for ship!

"Wez aint gunna getz loot blowin up all ur loot boatz!" Duffwort Wazgrim yelled slamming his choppa into the deck, a shower of spark shooting up and scattering several grecthin in the catwalk above. "Ow wez supposed to WAARGH witout lootz for da meks? Wez need mor boatz, mor shootas, mor choppas an" A large mechanical gauntlet doffed the kommando and sent him flying into a panel. Slamming into it with a loud thud, a rain of hail and metal filled the bridge, and as the kommando grunted, the small limp arm of a gretchin could be seen underneath, twitching reflexively.

"Ya talkz too much" the Kaptain roared as his large power klaw opened and closed with a pneumonic hiss "I'llz getz uz mor loot, wez jus need to git our bearins and wez go lootin da way!" he yelled, filling the halls with his voice "U ere dat?! Da kaptin will getz ya all dat loot youz could want and Ill getz uz to sum fightin too I willz!" he finished to a rousing WAAAGGH from the halls as his crew cheered. "Gobshack, do youz knowz wherein da galaxy are we? He asked, voice lowered by several magnitudes.

"Dunno kapt'n, dat warp fingy messed all kinds uf stuf up it did. I'll be needin zome time ta getz me bearins" he said screwing his face in concentration as he looked at the crudely drawn charts, and then out the window of the bridge "Wuldnt uh weirdboy be betta fror figurin dis out dough?"

"Bah, wez dont need no stinkin weirdboy. 'Sides, Mister Nubbitz iz stil gettin 'is 'ead fixed by da dok afta dat splosion las week!" the Kaptian said.

Gobshack continued to stare out the window. He needed to get them moving as quickly as he could, least the Kaptain lose patience and take his head like his predecessor. He could always take them in a random direction, he'd done so before, but with no idea where they were or where any fighting was, he couldn't just chance them going off and finding nothing. Putting a hand to the window, he pretended to be working as he looked into space. Focusing his metal eye he looked at the ship they'd just destroyed. As the eye zoomed and took readings he noticed something.

"Oi kaptain, da ship's still dere!" he said pointing out into space " 'Ell, 'alf da ship anyway, but erez still zomthings dere! Wez might be findin uz some loot, or least some uvers to go fightin!" he finished triumphantly.

"Good eye Gobshack, knewz ya werez right boy for da job! Oi ya gitz, move da Krooza an git da Big Scoopa ready!"

...

Parvik awoke and noticed several things. The first was that his emergency oxygen was on, judging from the sound of his own breathing and the stale taste in the air in his mouth. Second was that the console in front of him was cracked and after pulling away a few errant shards of plastic and microfiber from his faceplate, he could tell it was from where his head had slammed into it.

The third was the massive hole in the ship where the CIC used to be. Craning his head he could see a massive twenty meter-wide hole that cut clean through the center map display and information center that the Captain and several bridge members would have surrounded. In addition, several more meters of forward walkway, with the accompanying crew troughs had vanished along with the ship's brain. Squinting, he saw that really it was only a few beams of metal and some wiring that was keeping the _Belchick_ from being neatly split in two, if neatly could adequately describe a hole punched through the hull.

"Anyone there?" he asked into his suit's radio. He silently thanked the spirits for ship protocol, all members of the crew when not in their airtight bunks were required to wear their armor at all times. In an emergency situation like the one he found himself in, they wouldn't suddenly all die if the hull was breached. Turian preparedness at its finest. Just as he finished his silent prayer the radio replied "Parvik, that you?"

"Lamuss? He asked, recognizing the pilots voice, but double checking for the sheer relief of hearing another member of the crew. "Yeah it's me, I just woke up. What the hell happened?"

"I don't know, I was flying us one second and the next we were slammed with the hammer of the spirits. Crash chair took most of the impact, but I think I broke a rib or three. Captains dead I'm pretty sure."

"Yeah I saw the hole. What made that?" he asked as he unbuckled from his chair, floating in zero-g. He knew it was the large ship that had appeared off their bow, what he was really asking was how it had done what it had done.

"Your guess is as good as mine" the pilot's voice said "Best I could tell it looked like some kind of beam of light."

"A DEW?" Parvik asked as he struggled to boot up his console with emergency power from his omni-tool. He'd wanted to pull all sensor logs from the encounter. "That's impossible, the Salarians have the longest ranged one of those and that's in the ultraviolet. I don't think we'd actually see it like that" As the control crackled several times, he added "Plus the ablative armor should have bought us at least a second or two"

Lamuss groaned and Parvik heard him say "Thank you" to someone he couldn't see "Yeah well someone obviously forgot to tell whatever's out there how the Citadel thinks lasers ought to work" he said, voice flanging in annoyance. Looking back at the hole, Parvik noticed that despite the damage, the cut was clean, had it been a kinetic impactor, the edges would have been far more ragged than they were and the lack of shrapnel seemed too tidy as well. It really did look like an over-sized laser had crossed the distance and bored right through their ship in one hit. The omni-tool chimed as the console returned to life. Moving hastily, he initiated a data dump to his tool's memory files, command would want as much intelligence as they could get on these things. "Where are you now?" he asked as the console's files finished downloading.

"Medbay. About a dozen or more of us are here, there's emergency atmosphere and it's sealed tight. We were actually getting ready to send a couple people up to grab you and anyone else that might still be up there. Vakeren's got what's left of engineering trying to plug the drive core, it's still spinning and leaking eezo everywhere, gotta get that shit on lockdown. You getting the intel?" he asked.

"Yep, just finished. Should I head down?"

"Yeah, emergency beacon should have deployed and we've got enough consumables to last a couple weeks. We'll sit tight for the next patrol to come get us, then we can warn command about whatever this is and th..."

"Oh shit!" Parvik yelled as his console returned more readings "That ship... Its turning around, its coming right for us!" he said, feeling a pit in his stomach. The massive ship was accelerating right for their wreck, having pulled a two hundred and seventy degree turn to line back up with them. As the faint redundant LADAR arrays sent pings out into space, a better image of the ship emerged. The odd angles present were still there, the thing looked just as much like it had been pulled from a scrapheap as it had been earlier, but a new shape was pointing out from the front of the ship. Conical, it extended outward as the ship moved forward.

"Is that...a funnel?" he asked himself as the LADAR scans intensified their outline of the ship. After several more passes the thing had finished extending its self and magnetic readings could be detected around it. "Oh shit, that's a funnel" he realized as the girth of the thing formed one long tunnel right into the maw of the ship.

"Lamuss, get everyone to the armory! I think we're about to be boarded!"

…

 ** _From the hand of Captain Josiah Patternock Merriweather von Helvik_**

As I awoke from my micronap I realize that a great deal of organization will have to be done. While this will not be the first time we find ourselves cut off from the Imperium by a vast distance, given the influence of possible warp villainy, there exists a strong possibility this period of isolation will not be for the short term and thus, a proper inventory and course of action will be needed.[1]

The first thing we all noticed was the absence of the Anomaly. Not only is the warp rift gone, but the septuple of stars that orbited it have vanished as well. In place instead is a single dull orange star with one cold world orbiting at the outer limits of the system. In addition to the xeno artifact of indeterminate origin. Whatever occurred during the battle, we've clearly moved a great distance. Where is still currently being determined.

More pressingly though is the total absence of light from the Astronomican. Navigator Kessler alerted me to this fact the moment I returned to the bridge. His third eyes open as he flailed his arms around, still half strapped to his chair and dragging the sacred instrumentation as he struggled towards me. Closing my eyes, I was forced to tackle the man and cover his forehead with the navigational band his kind wore to keep the rest of the bridge from being petrified. Just as I finished strapping him to his chair my vox was inundated with voices from all the captains in the fleet, each reporting similar situations, their navigators becoming panicked as their golden line back to Imperial space was absent.

If my words seem calm than assume it is due the inability of this damnable quill to properly convey emotions via my diction. Without the light of the Emperor's beacon, we'll be unable to move apart from short jumps, and if we were blown into the Halo Stars like I suspect, then the volatile warp currents of the region will make even the smallest of jumps incredibly hazardous, and without the great light...Its quite clear something is amiss, and that the damnable forces of the Warp have possibly doomed us to rot in the far reaches. With the panic and catatonia of our navigators we'll have little information available for ourselves until one of them snaps out of it. Until then though, more drastic measures will be needed.

I have no choice, I've called a meeting of the Estates Capital. [2 ]In several hours, the captains of my fleet along with a few ranking retainers will gather as we try and determine our next course of action. While I of course have sole and final authority in all matters of decisions for the fleet, I find that pooling the collective knowledge at our disposal, as well as the resources we have available will be critical to survival.

All warship captains will be present, and the merchant ships will select one of their number to be their representative at this meeting. Sure they might grumble about not getting to all sit in, but when we have more freighters than warships that's just not practical. Plus they know better than to try and go alone.[3]

 **To be called to attendance:**

Captain Josiah Patternock Merriweather von Helvik- _Legitimate Business Acquisition_

Captain Palamon Leinwand- _Starlight of Apollas_ [4]

Captain Ronni Lanate- _Lance of Hawk_

Captain Rachele Danver De Banzi[5] - _Fabled Phoenix_

Captain Clodius Albinus- _Eternal Crimson_

Explorator Captain: Torth Bredahl- _Heculiean_

Captain Zita Jeg- _Ricanteu_

Captain Heironymus Found- _Foremost Effect_

Captain Shanice Calgar- _His Mighty Resplendence_

Captain Hastus Lese- _Hero's Soul_ (Merchant Representative)

Arch-Bishop Vilma Sarina

Navigator Kessler Stha[6]l

Magos Brith

Sergeant General Avidius Cassius Hussian

Astropath Augustus Hoyal

Archmagos Felton (Mechanicus Representative)[7]

[1] The last time we accidentally misjumped and wound up far beyond the light of the Emperor we lost our Mass Conveyor on the trip back home and nearly half the Acquisition's crew starved when an algae extruder failed. When we discovered the large crates of frozen snchozberries on one of the ships in the fleet I learned a hard lesson in logistics.

[2] Last called thirty seven years ago during that particular incident with the Eldar farseer.

[3] Not attending the meeting, but will surely be kept in the loop will be the Sharper Proth. He and his band have a knack for finding their way around unknown reaches. Plus the promise of new meals for their kind will likely be a powerful incentive to remain on the sole mobile platform they're on for light-years.

[4] My backup flag ship.

[5] I still owe her a hundred thrones for that game of chess I lost last year.

[6] Assuming he's in control of his faculties.

[7] Given the sheer number of Mechanicus personnel presently stuck in the cargo holds of our transports, keeping them informed will likely prove crucial, though fortunately most of their "number" is comprised of servitors.

…

In the _Belchick_ 's lower deck, the crew scrambled, trying to finish a seemingly endless stream of tasks before their ship was swallowed by the oncoming giant. Each person's omni-tool was keyed to the LADAR readouts as it counted down time until contact. Parvik and Lamuss were struggling to access the computer core, sealed behind pair of heavy blast-shields. The two had placed a crowbar in the center of the door and were prying with all their strength. After pushing for several seconds, they fell to the ground as the bar slid out

"Ugh. Crap, that didn't work." Lammus wheezed as he clutched his side, his armor still half disassembled from where the doctor had been wrapped his chest in a gel cast, a temporary fix for his broken ribs. "Whose job was it to purge the nav data again?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"I think that was Telik's job". Parvik said as he stood, helping the pilot up with an extended hand "Would have been the first thing he did actually the moment the fighting started, but since he was in the CIC...well" he made an "explosion" gesture with his hands.

"Great, so we got popped before we could dump the data and the computer room just so happens to be sealed due to combat damage since the automatic system doesn't want anyone fucking around with it when it goes into emergency mode. Wonderful! Who designed this shit again?"

Parvik didn't answer as he stuck the bar back in the door. True the ships fail-safes were now keeping them from dumping the data, but he couldn't really fault the designers on that one. The system had been designed so one or two keystrokes were all that was needed to initiate a purge of sensitive information. The expectation was that in deep space, one couldn't really ambush a ship, the heat and electromagnetic signatures would light up a target long before a kinetic round would have hit the ship. A frigate, which by its design, tended to be the kind of ship that did the ambushing, not visa-versa was seen as doubly hard to hit, but to be safe, all Hierarchy ships fitted for long range patrol on the frontier could dump sensitive data in the event of a hostile first contact situation. That was the theory anyways, the _Belchick_ had proven a practical way the system could be circumvented.

Parvik heaved as the bar fell to the side again. Useless. They'd need a torch and an hour or so to clear sealed door by his reckoning. Grunting, he threw his hands in the air "Well this isn't going to work."

Lamuss glanced at the door and back to Parvik "Well then how are going to get in? Its not like we have the time to cut the thing."

"We don't...but we could blast in." Parvik stood, cursing his slip of memory and for wasting their time "Don't the marines have cutting charges for boarding actions?" he asked rhetorically. Lamuss put a hand to his forehead and shook his head, cursing to himself.

A few minutes later, Parvik had affixed a small circular package to the door, and retreated back to the corridor wall. He rounded the corner and activated the charge on his omni-tool. Feeling a slight thump, he felt the rush of air as the cluster of explosives forced their way past the armored bulkhead and crashed into the computer room. Running in, he saw a bank of computers and their servers, some still smoking from the blast and more than one monitor panel cracked or broken from the impact. Finding a relatively undamaged computer, Parvik initiated a full purge of the system, all sensitive information, navigational charts, crew dossiers, everything deemed critical was wiped away from the system with a few commands. He took a breath before the ship shook violently under his feet. Over his comm he heard Lamuss's voice "Contact, they've hooked us", looking at his omni-tool, he saw the readouts vanish as the _Belchick_ was engulfed in the belly of the strange ship.

He took a breath of air, stale as it was and steeled himself. They hadn't used the escape pods once the ship turned around, they'd figured there was little point to floating in small pods for the ship to capture, instead they were opting to make a stand in the wreck of the _Belchick_ where they could at least group together for protection. He'd finished basic training like all his fellow turians, but opted for service in the navy as opposed to the marines or army. He was more than willing to fight for his people, but preferred some significant distance between himself and anything shooting at them. As they were being reeled in, a play of emotions had flowed through his as he prepared. He didn't want to be there, but the others needed as many shooters as possible and regardless of his discomfort and if he admitted to himself, fear, he at least resolved himself to fight alongside the family he'd served with for the better part of couple years. He owed them that much.

Parvik was jostled around some more as he struggled to reach the mess hall, where what was left of the crew had gathered. A trio of marines were passing out sidearms and other munitions. Without thinking, he grabbed an offered heavy pistol and synced the heat monitor to his omni-tool; others grabbed pistols and a few took the spare assault rifles. Lamuss took a shotgun. Beneath them, the ship groaned as it adjusted gravity, hearing a crash and long scraping sound of metal from the front and a new noticeable tilt from the rear of the ship, one of the marine said "There goes the bow" with a dry voice. The lieutenant, Tarqis, addressed the group.

"Here's the plan, once we're clamped down we head to the most defensible portion of scrap left on this ship and you all hole up there. Servus and myself will head to the opening and try and open a comm with whatever just blasted us. Before we start shooting them, we have to assume that this could be some kind of misunderstanding" he said to a grumble of disagreement from the crew "I know, I know, but protocol's protocol and I'd rather not fuck up this situation any more than it already is. If they start shooting, we shoot back. If they offer to take us prisoner, we do that. If they offer a magical ride back to the Citadel, we take that option. Anything but fighting if we can help it, we might be the Hierarchy's finest, but even we're not taking this damn ship with only three marines. Now if we had four we might be in business" he finished to a small chuckle from some of the crew, more out of nervousness than general humor. As he felt his stomach move up his body, following by a thunderous crash and sudden stop, Parvik knew the ship had been dropped.

Syncing their comms and video feeds to the marine's helmets, they watched from their position as Tarqis and Servus climbed their way out of the twisted hallways back to the hole in the ship's front. As the marine with them had said, the bow was sheered away and the ship was now opened to whatever was outside, presently that was a massive cavernous hold. The camera swiveled as the lieutenant turned his head from side to side. Parvik saw the dilapidated hanger, loose wires arched electricity between themselves while showering the hanger in a dazzle of sparks. Bits of scrap metal dangled from the ceiling and poked out from the wall, to say nothing of the mess that littered the floor beneath their ship. Gears, metal bars, twisted pieces of scrap, random nozzles, bits of electrical wiring and circuitry and a whole scrapyard worth of other parts were scattered around. Above and below, a loud thunking sound could be heard.

"What is all this?" Lamuss asked, looking at Parvik "The whole place is a damn dump! Did this thing really kill our ship?"

"Scavengers maybe?" Parvik offered "They could be nomads like the Quarians and their ships are falling apart?"

"You'd think they'd keep better care of their gear then. Say what you will about the canheads, but they run some orderly ships, and I don't think they'd leave a bunch of useful junk laying around like this"

"Contact!" Servus's voice came in over the comms. Looking back at the camera, Parvik saw a flash of movement coming from a scattering of rusted out cargo crates. Bursting out of the boxes in a hail of rust and scrap came an onrushing of what could only be described as a red fleshy balls with a pair of legs and a giant mouth full of teeth. Tarqis ordered them to halt, and when they didn't, opened fire.

The first thing Parvik noticed was that the things were tough. A single burst from the marine's assault rifles did little to halt one of the balls. It took both soldiers concentrating fire for couple seconds to put one of the things down. Parvik ran the numbers in his head, the amount of fire they'd just put into this unarmored ball of teeth was a little bit more than what'd normally be needed to wear down the barrier and armor of a typical soldier. The things didn't seem to have any armor or barriers themselves, so they'd just taken the fire to their bodies until they died. Only a korgan, varren or particularly pissed off vorcha could say the same thing.

Tarqis and Servus continued to shoot, taking uncomfortably long stops to let their rifles vent as they overheated. By the third pause, most of the flesh balls had been killed but a few were still running towards the marines. Servus opened fire first as their guns cooled yet again, taking out another one of the balls as other two continued to thunder forward. Parvik watched as the balls squatted on their stumpy legs and launched themselves forward towards the marines. Tarqis caught one in the air with his rifle's fire, but the other collided with Servus and the two tumbled back into the ship. Watching in horror on the vid cam, the crew saw the thing dig its teeth into Servus's side and shook itself and the flailing turian violently from side to side. Once or twice it would chew, slicing through more armor and skin. Servus's screams filled their comms until a flash of fire came from the opening of the hole and the thing fell to its side, dead. Parvik noted that had been riddled with more than a dozen bullet holes, worse, Servus's arm was still clutched in its mouth. Parvik killed the feed from Servus's camera just as the marine rolled his head over and saw the half torn tendons poking from his shoulder's socket, blood spurting up in sickening uneven squirts between exposed muscle and bone.

"Spirits" he heard several mumble.

Tarqis started moving down to help his comrade. He was almost back in the ship when a loud voice boomed through the empty hold and filled their ears. Parvik and the rest couldn't make sense of it, but a few sounds stood out.

"Oi" he could several of the voices say, while another couple grumbled and growled "squigs."

Tarqis's voice echoed from the ship as he called out the aliens.

"My name is Lieutenant Arvinnian Tarqis, Hierarchy Seventy Eighth Scout Flotilla. Who are you? Why did you attack our ship? He asked, having his suits commns translate his words into all known speech patterns from Citadel space and the Terminus. After a minute of belting out the same automated question, the aliens seemed unfazed and responded only in their grunting language.

One said something to the guttural agreements of the group. They didn't seem to understand Tarqis, despite the translation software. Curious Parvik opened his omni-tool and looked at the translation in text, the log registered what could only be described as a jumble of human words. English, but also a massive compilation of other words in the human lexicon, things called Spanish, Latin, Mandarin, Urdu, Hindi, Russia, Bantu, something called Esperanto and a myriad of others. In addition, the aliens had also been speaking in their own grunts, growls and roars which the translation couldn't make heads or tails of. These things were just literally throwing out random words for number of languages and mismatching them together. The fact the software of the translator tool even understood that some of the human language was being spoken was surprising, but given the random ordering of words and their phrasing, he suspected that the words being spoken were largely different from their human counterparts.

A voice came that caused a massive chorus of agreement. As Tarquis crested back up to the hole he saw a mass of more than a hundred slouching aliens. They looked to be Turian height, but likely would have stood taller were it not for their poor, slumping posture. All were the same snot green color and were similarly dressed in ragged bits of metal and cloth. Thick tusks protruded from their square shaped jaws and pointed ears stuck up next to their bald heads. Parvik noted through the camera that each one was built like a damn krogan, all were thick with muscle and had a wide frame that suggested their skeletons were similarly sized. All were clutching either some ramshackle ax or a blade, some square shaped pistols were held by the ax wielders. A few had equally pieced together-looking rifles. One particular specimen seemed to stand a head or three above the others and was clutching a large two handed ax that seemed to be smoking, as though exhaust was coming out of it.

The large alien roared, waving his smoking ax towards the _Belchick_. Parvik couldn't understand its low guttural sounds, but then a familiar roar filled the hanger as the large alien raised its head back. "WAAAGHHH!"

A roaring chorus of "WAAARGH" filled the hanger as the tide of green rushed at the ship, flashes filling the hanger as a rain of bullets filled the air around lieutenant Tarqis.

 ** _From the Hand of Captain Josiah Patternock Merriweather von Helvik_**

My journey to the conference was delayed by half an hour after that accursed murder servitor made an appearance. Leaping out of a vent and dragging an unfortunate member of our Janatorium staff back into the vent with it as it did so. Its mask flashing a disturbingly artificial toothy smile as it dug its claws into the poor man as he vanished from sight. I'll have to remember to speak to Magos Brith about that thing. At the rate we're losing scrubiators and polishers on this deck soon the promenades and deck hatches will be littered with refuse; and the polish I'm so accustomed to will fade away. I'd rather sell my mother than suffer such squalor!

Trudging ahead, careful to not step in the blood with my finest groxskin boots I finally made it to the meeting, fashionably late as I heard it was whispered. It would appear my delay gave me a slight aura of confidence as I sat to converse with the captains of my fleet, I suppose that they were cognizant enough to remember matters and protocols even in our unusual circumstances. We sat around a circular mahogany table, with my bowtied servo skulls floating around with trays of amasec [1]. I then gave them some more time to talk among themselves as we got comfortable, let it never be said that the Von Helviks's can't host grand events, even if it is a late minute affair. As I prepared to speak, Navigator Kessler appeared, and while pale and nervous looking, he at least seemed to be in full control of his faculties and following him was my loyal astropath, Augustus Hoyal, who seemed to be in considerably higher spirits judging by his ear to ear smile.

Taping a goblet I got the attention of the room. With eyes upon me I rose to give a rousing speech of confidence and cooperation. I extolled my fellows first for their everlasting virtues in their wise command, whatever they chose to make of that, I'm sure it flattered the ones who are always flatterable. I then urged them to keep their crews calm as we navigated this seemingly new horizon and that together, if we played our cards right, we could find even greater fortune for ourselves as we plumbed the depths of the frontier. I spoke of the God Emperor's wisdom and light and that even if we were separate from it, his countenance would surely fall on us and keep us safe in its embrace, so long as we kept[2] to the true faith and didn't waver. "Even with us being so far from any watchful eyes, this would be the grandest test of our resolve, the temptation of the man who find's himself in the dark to do as the darkness in his heart wills is the hardest of vices to avoid, but should he do so, his rewards beyond will be ever greater and everlasting."[3] I said to finished the speech. My impromptu homily seemed to hit its mark as the crowed seemed receptive enough.[4]

As I opened the discussion to questions and concerns, Hoyal and Kessler both stood. I was surprised to see them so eager to jointly speak given Kessler's unease with my astropath following a nearly disastrous use of his powers some years prior[5] which left the two no longer on speaking terms.[6] Kessler spoke first, reaffirming what we already knew; the light of the Astronomican was gone from where we were. What he said next though was surprising. With Hoyal reaffirming what he was saying, Kessler explained that the warp around us was calm, not just a lull or relatively placid portion like what occurred on the narrow bands of stable warp traffic in charted space, but rather, the whole of the warp for our portion of the galaxy was flat. The tumultuous currents normally present were simply nonexistent, the shoals covered by the waves of energy were exposed and visible from a great distance, and the cacophony of sights and sounds in the region were gone as well. If the Warp was normally a raging storm, now it was a calmly jostling lake.

Chiming in, Augustus explained further. Normally the warp was full of background noises that made telepathic probing and exploration difficult, but now the noises were hardly present. I was shocked [7], if what the two of them were saying was true [8] then the normal dangers of traveling through the Immaterium weren't in this region of space. Without the rolling waves of psychic energies and dangerous hidden shoals, travel would not only be much safer but even faster than in almost any region of Imperial space. While we'd need to chart this unknown expanse to survive and find our way home, our task had become monumentally more manageable and our situation a lot less bleak. Traveling unimpeded in this strange bubble of calm gave us the flexibility to try and find supplies and a possible channel back to Itano. In addition, without the background noise of the warp, our astropaths could keep in touch with one another without as much risk and each man and woman could send a message out further than before. I could tell this dawned upon the rest of the seated representatives as well judging by their frenetic whispers.

Clearing my throat, I announced our course of action was clear. With the safety of travel in our immediate area secured, the first thing that we needed to do was try and find a strand of light from the Astronomican. While this bubble of space would protect us for the time being, once we moved beyond its embrace we'd need the light of the Emperor to make our way back safely. Secondarily, we needed to explore this bubble of space as well as we could while trying to find the beacon. Once we returned to Imperial space, my next endeavor would be a massive exploration and colonization effort of this bubble of space, and the more information we found before leaving, the better my plans would be. With such easy warp travel available, it would be a trivial matter to move supplies and people around the suns and planets in this region without the normal logistical uncertainties that came with such plans. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I had planned to spend hours with my fellows, going over plans and lists of equipment, but with Kessler and Augustus's announcement, I dismissed the meeting early. My people would need to coordinate with their own small councils to make our fleet's next moves as we set out through the stars.

Which brings me to my third objective. In all the excitement, many forgot about the xeno device outside. Once it didn't react to our presence, our attention turned back to survival. Now that we have breathing room, I am curious about this thing. Magos Brith has no clue as to its function[9] but with our first priority being exploration of the bubble, I'll place it on the back burner for the time being. I know of no other trader who might operate this far out[10] so I can feel comfortable leaving it here for now, but I'll be back.

I head to my study now. If exploration and movement is an option I'll need to examine my ships and see which would be best suited for which task.

...

[1] Caralex Vintage 39,888. I'm loath to part with such a classic, but when putting on the airs of diplomacy, sacrifices must be made.

[2] At least in the abstract.

[3] The Parable of the Blind Star Captain. Chapter Sixty Six verse nine.

[4] Our Mechanicus guest remained silent, though my Magos and Explorator assured me that the speech was considered adequate by our guest.

[5] A dull tale, but suffice to say that the perils of the warp caused an accidental rain of blood to fall for several days on the bridge. To took a month of cleaning from our Adeptus Janitorium staff to clean it all.

[6] Which made coordinating fleet actions somewhat cumbersome and difficult as they two used intermediates to talk to one another while on the bridge. After their intermediates began a sordid affair that ended acrimoniously their go-between then began to use their own set of intermediaries to communicate. I could not dismiss them as they were pages from our knightly starfighter families.

[7] Though I make a policy of trying to avoid being so.

[8] While I have little reason to doubt their faculties or abilities, the situation is still quite incredulous.

[9] Though in his defense as of the time of this writing we've only been here a scant few hours, barring differences in the passage of time in this area of space.

[10] McGowan might have but after I arraigned that warp core accident I don't think he'll be emerging from the Immaterium any time soon.

 _A/N-I went back and edited chapter 1 a little bit, now the Turians don't understand Ork language, I forgot Gothic isn't just English, but rather an amalgamation of various human languages and put through the sausage grinder of thousands of years of history and drift. Next time I'll keep the Lexicanum open more to double check my information._

 _Anyways, I hope you all are enjoying the story, and if you see any writing errors let me know, I like to improve to make the reading easier for all of you as the story continues._


	3. Chapter 3

Parvik and the rest the survivors watched lieutenant Tarqis die through the real time video feed coming back through their headsets. The lieutenant had started to back into the ship, firing in a tight circle at the oncoming aliens. Like the red balls of teeth, these creatures were tough; by the time one of their wildly inaccurate bullets finally collided with Tarqis, he'd fired close to a hundred rounds into the horde. The only impact being a pair of the aliens falling to the ground after he'd riddled their skulls with bullets. Disturbingly, only one stayed down, the other picked himself up after being trampled by the stampede and roared in anger at being in the back of the pack. Just as Tarqis had thrown one of his grenades into the crowd, a bullet struck his kinetic barrier. The force brought his shield down instantly, and before he could do anything else, the lieutenant tumbled to the ground, a large spurt of blood coming out of his right leg. Rolling onto his back, he continued to fire on the aliens, with as much discipline as he could before one of them brought its ax down on the marine and the helmet lost all video connection. The last thing everyone saw was the ragged serrated edge of an ax blade as it rushed towards the camera.

The roars of "WAAAAGGH" echoed through the ship as the aliens started climbing through. Parvik and the others kept their guns aimed at the two corridors that lead down into the mess. Had they more time, they would have welded one of the corridor hatches shut to funnel the aliens down one kill zone. From the armory they'd deployed a pair of portable field generators that created small rectangular kinetic barriers, useful for emergency situations like they now found themselves in when they needed as much cover as possible. They'd also passed around personal kinetic barriers so everyone had a small shimmer of protection, though after watching Tarqis's shield do him little good, Parvik wondered how much good their own would do.

He didn't have much time to ponder that question, the thunderous footsteps of the aliens filled their ship and as the sounds grew closer, he saw the faint dance of shadows in both hallways as the horde descended on the survivors. Parvik leaned against a wall, letting the corner protect him. To his left, Lammus was crouched behind one of the mobile barrier walls, shotgun braced against his shoulder, aimed down the right hallway. Around them, other turians crouched or hid behind cover, a few laid down and poked their weapons around or through whatever protection they had. When the first alien appeared, ragged ax and boxy pistol in hand, Parvik and the others let loose with everything they had. Hundreds of tracers were electronically superimposed on his eye piece, each slicing a deadly path through the alien. Despite the intensity of the fire though, it continued to surge forward for several more long paces before falling forward, its front a mess of dark red blood dripping from hundreds of pinpricks. As soon as it fell, another of the aliens stomped on it body and ran forward, pistol out and firing at the crew.

Parvik saw several sparks appear in the walls and ceiling near their position as the charging aliens in the hallway returned fire, their squat pistols barking loudly with each shot. Chants of "Dakka dakka dakka" filled the air as the aliens fired. The shimmering barrier generators, rated to stand under the withering fire of several mass accelerator rifles were struck several times and promptly shorted out. One of the technicians tried to bring one of them back online, but his own personal barrier flashed briefly as it was struck, and then the technician's head vanished in an explosion of skull and brain matter. The aliens, despite losing several more of their number had stormed out of the narrow halls and were filling the mess. Axes raised, they once more belted out a roar of "WAAAGGH" as several of their number crossed the distance and slammed into the turian's defenses.

The lone marine still with the survivors dunked under the ax swing of one of the aliens, his rifle belting out fully automatic fire into the creature's torso for several seconds before the overheating warnings beeped. Swinging once more and missing, the alien leveled its gun at the soldier and fired several rapid shots. Parvik didn't even see the flash of kinetic barrier before several large bloody holes were punched through the marine's armor and showered a nearby cook with bit of bone and blood. The man only had a second to register that'd he'd been coated with some of his comrade before the alien, gushing deep red rivulets of its own blood slammed its ax into the turian, sending his body flying halfway over the heads of the other creatures as they swarmed the survivors. The cook split in half as he soared over everyone's heads.

As the alien turned to face the others, its head exploded in a geyser of red. Parvik looked to see Lammus holding an overheated shotgun leveled at where the alien's cranium had once been. Parvik was about to say something when a heavy object slammed into his chest, sending him backwards a meter and knocking him on his ass. Wheezing, his vision blurred for several seconds as he felt a heavy weight push on his torso. Blinking, he saw the glassy eyed stare of one of the crew staring right back at him; the corpse's weight gently crushing his chest as Parvik struggled to breath. Pushing the body up to get enough room to get a gulp of air, he got a look at its face: he thought he recognized it as one of the mechanics or techs that worked around the bridge on occasion. Shoving the body to his side, he saw a deep gash slicing diagonally across the dead man's chest, dark blue blood leaking over him and the floor. Groping for his pistol, he found nothing save for empty air and the metal floor.

Breathing heavily as he caught his breath, Parvik looked back to the group. A spectacle of blue gore was all he saw, the bodies of the crew littered the deck, most either missing limbs or were contorted at odd angles that even the most lithe of Asari couldn't achieve. Lammus and another member of the crew, an ensign named Arvan, if Parvik remembered correctly, were the only ones still standing. Arvan was firing desperately at a pair of green aliens as he was backed into the wall, his assault rifle clattering until the telltale beeping the overheat alarm sounded.

The aliens made a deep guttural sound that was suspiciously similar to a laugh as they weathered the fire, trails of deep red streaking down their bodies. Screaming, Arvan tried to club one of the aliens with the butt of his rifle, the plastic polymer smacking the alien across it face with a meaty slap. It in turn obliged Arvan with a swipe of its own boxy pistol which sent the ensign sprawling to the ground. As he tried to turn and fire once more as the rifle cooled, one of the aliens stepped over him. With one swift motion, it stomped his face, caving Arvan's skull in with a sickening squish that could be heard over the fading sounds of battle.

Lammus stood alone, retreating towards Parvik, who struggled to try and stand. He heard another guttural roar as one of the aliens began to swing his ax at Lammus, lunging forward to put more momentum behind the blow. The pilot dropped to a knee and aimed his shotgun upwards. Just as the alien was halfway through the motion, a large fiery blast erupted from the gun and the upper half of the alien's skull vanished in a mix of heat, metal and bone. The beeping of the overheating alarm sounded. From behind the dead creature another alien belted out a challenge and surged forward whirling its ax through the air in a deadly arch. Lammus ducked under the first ax swing, but was caught in his ribs by a lower hand swipe of the alien's pistol. The sound of several more of Lammus's ribs breaking could be heard with an audible crack. Dropping reflexively to his hands and knees, and screaming in pain, he tried to roll to the side. In that moment the alien growled and brought the ax down on Lammus's neck, the momentary sound of metal slicing flesh could be heard before the pilot's head was thrown a small distance by the force, and landed squarely at Parvik's feet.

He looked into the eyes of his fallen crewmate, searching for strength, for fury, anything really to give him the strength to stand and face the death he was sure was to come. He balled his fists, trying to steady himself, but instead, simply wheezed, still winded from the impact. Parvik was still looking Lammus's head when he was picked up by his neck. Choking as the vice grip tightened, he finally craned his neck upwards as he was lifted off the ground, held almost a third of a meter up by a rough approximation. The alien with the smoking ax was holding him, easily recognizable by his wider frame and extra three heads of height over his fellows.

It was staring right into his face was a pair of dull red eyes, surrounding tiny yellow pupils. It brought Parvik closer until his head was practically right next to its mouth, as Parvik struggled to breath, he wondered if the thing was going to try and eat him. The rows of sharp crooked teeth and the smell of rotten meat in the alien's mouth seemed to suggest it'd have little problem biting his head off. Instead, it just sniffed him, made a grunt, and tossed him two meters into the center of a crowd of aliens. Hitting the ground with a dull thud, Parvik heard the thing growl and roar at the others, gesturing with it hand and ax for several seconds. He felt a tug on his arms and saw that two of the turian sized aliens were dragging him down the hall. He tried to kick his feet and wiggle free, but was clocked in the head by a single, powerful punch and went still. As they rounded the corner of the hallway, he had just enough time to watch one of the aliens grab Lammus's body and yank one of the pilot's arm off with a bloody rip. It bit off a portion, chewed twice, and spate out the remains of the arm, grunting angrily as it did so.

They dragged him for several more minutes, out of the ship and through the hanger. As his legs and feet bounced off bits of scrap metal and other pieces of debris, he was thankful for the leg armoring he wore as part of his uniform. With a final bounce he was thrown forward lightly by the pair. One had the arraignment of ax and pistol while the other held a clunky looking rifle, neither seemed to pay him much attention. They only softly growled to one another, gesturing at him a few times before both looking up,and grunting loudly at something. Parvik looked up as well and saw more than half a dozen small green creatures climbing down the wall towards him.

They had large bulbous heads, with a long, hooked noses and pointed ears pinned back against their skulls. Like the larger aliens, these ones had green skin, dull red eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth. As the group finished climbing down, they scurried towards Parvik, hunched forward, almost dragging their forelimbs along the ground. He noticed that they were quite small, only coming up roughly to his waist by his own rough approximation. They wore nothing save for a few tattered looking rags draped over their waist and several brown wrappings around their wrists and ankles. Apart from one which carried what looked to be a smaller version of the pistols he'd seen the larger aliens use, they held nothing else. They gibbered to one another as they came towards him, speaking in a higher pitched version of the deep grunts and growls he'd seen the larger aliens speak with. He felt their hands move up and down his body and then felt his armor being tugged in several different places at once. Looking around, he saw that they were quickly detaching sections of his armor. He struggled as several tried to hold him down, but he pushed up and scattered the group for a moment. Crouching, he painfully rose and as one of the small creatures came back at him, kicked it reflexively, sending it flying back a half meter or so in a sprawling heap. He heard a rumbling laugh and saw the two larger aliens watching him struggle, their weapons held at their sides as they enjoyed the spectacle. Another one of the small creatures came at him, punching downwards, Parvick knocked it to its hind quarters, his hand aching from the blow. He heard the two laugh more as he did so.

He was about to kick a third when his barrier flashed, something had shot him. Turning around, he saw the one little alien with the pistol aiming it at him with shaky hands. Mentally calculating, Parvik realized sadly that he wouldn't be able to cross the distance in time. Slumping his shoulders in tired resignation, he let the other little aliens approach him and in a minute, they had stripped him of his armor, his eye piece and his omni-tool, leaving only his under clothing. He watched as the little creatures vanished into a hole in the wall, carrying his equipment as bundles in their arms. Behind him he heard the groan of metal as a circular hatch opened in the floor, revealing a one meter wide hole that lead deeper to the ship with a faint rush of stale air.

He was about to say something when one of the larger aliens appeared in front of him and shoved him backwards, feeling a moment of freefall, he then clanged against the side of something metal as he watched the circle of light vanish above him, as he fell and rolled into the darkness below. His body bounced against the walls several times as the tube began to angle slightly, or at least what he'd assumed was an angle, the fall was disorientating and as his forehead slammed into a wall, increasingly painful. His descent continued for several seconds before he rolled out, having clutched his head close to his chest he rolled forward a good three meters before coming to a full stop.

Unfurling himself, he he slowly raised his head to get his bearings. He was in a cavernous room, that he now noticed was considerably hotter than the hanger he'd just been pulled from. He saw several gouts of flame fire out of the floors and walls, crude effigies of the faces of his captors held the wall fires. Chains loaded down with a number of different ramshackle looking goods and weapons moved overhead, dangling their loads via hook. Several of the Turian sized aliens milled around with whips and blades that had serrated edges to them. He'd briefly wondered what their function was until he saw one of the aliens brandished a blade and observed it belching smoke and the edge began to move rapidly. Between the motion and the sound of the blade, it reminded him of the cutting tools used by lumberjacks and construction workers in the city he'd grown up in on Digeris Grunting loudly with the blade to move forward, Parvik obliged, moving deeper into the room.

As he did so, he was able to see past some of the smoke which had half blinded him and saw that he was what could be described as a workshop fused with holo-vid image of old sailing ships that his people used on Palavan during their Age of Iron. Bits of metal and other objects were thrown into large kilns and pots, and were melted down. He saw large metal containers pass by and pour the liquid metal into crude molds roughly in the shape of the guns and blades he'd seen the aliens using. He saw other greenskinned aliens not posted as guards busily going to work at tables, large wrenches turning, oversized hammers clanging, and even one rough looking clamp coming from one of their backs poking and prodding at something in front of it. Further back in the room, several of these workers were busily assembling what looked like some kind of land vehicle, while a pair of the diminutive aliens that had stripped him sprayed the contraption with red paint. Judging from the odd pieces of sharp metal which jutted out, to the oversized and exposed engine, he guessed that it wouldn't be the safest thing to ride in.

While he was curious about these strange sights, what really grabbed his attention was the left and right of the room. Several large cranks were being turned by captives. He'd assumed the later judging by the way the aliens savagely whipped them every few seconds. As the cranks turned, bits of metal rose and fall or moved along the chains. Against the wall though were hundreds of small bars popping out, each manned by several captives, who moved back and forth in a rowing motion, carrying on a slow cadence as several of the smaller aliens beat a massive drum made from the skin of some creature.

Manning the cranks and rowing bars were hundreds of humans

...


	4. Ship Lore- His Mighty Resplendence

_**From the hand of Captain Josiah Patternock Merriweather von Helvik**_

As we begin to chart this bubble of space, I feel compelled to provide a brief chronicle of the various ships of my glorious fleet so that whoever may read this record, hopefully long after I've returned and lived a full life[1], will have a better understanding of the ships and their unique peoples who helped to chart this unknown reach and further the glory of the Von Helvik family.

While the first inclination would be to explore more of my own ship, I feel delving too deep into the Acquisition as of now would be too much for most readers of these annals[2] and would unnecessarily distract from the glories of my various subordinates. Let it never be said that a Von Helvik denies glory to others who are more deserving.[3]

So instead, I will allow the Mechanicus's technical descriptions of the ships in my fleet to precede these logs of ship history[4] to give the reader a better understanding of how these mighty ships operate before you understand their glory.

 **HIS MIGHTY RESPLENDANCE- DAUNTLESS CLASS LIGHT CRUSIER**

Captain: Shanice Calgar[5]

Age-Unknown, the ship archives indicate that parts of the hull date back as far as M34.

Dimensions: 4.5 KM Length, .5 Km Abeam at fins, .78 KM Height (Not Including Aquila Pennant)

Population: Approximately 67,000

Acceleration: 5.1 Gravities[6]

Equipment:[7]

Power Plant: Jovian Pattern Class 4.5 Warcrusier Drive

Warp Drive: Strelov 2 Warp Engine

Void Shield: Castellan-Class Shield

Armored Command Bridge

Clan-Kin Quarters

Augmented Retro Thrusters, Reinforced Prow/Power Ram, Barracks, Broadband Hymn Caster, Field Bracing, Fire Suppression System, Storm Drop Pod Launch Bay

Weapons:

1 Titan Forge Lance Battery Mounted in the prow of the ship

2 Pyros Melta-Cannon Macrobatteries (Port and Starboard)

In terms of battle tactics, the _Resplendence_ has one preferred method of attacking; ramming the enemy. From their armored prow affixed with an ancient up scaled power array, to their large bank of capital class melta cannons, the Resplendence and her people revel in up-close engagements with their foe.

The typical attack pattern for the _Resplendence_ is to identify a target, and then broadcast on all vox channels various hymns the God-Emperor while playing their battle horns at maximum volume. They'll close in and wear down the target's shields or armor with lance battery fire, housed in reinforced forward sections of the ship's bow. Once they've reach terminal distance, the ships crew will activate the power couplings on the bow, turning their titanic bludgeon into a starship sized power sword. Upon slamming into an enemy, the _Resplendence_ will then make a hard port or starboard and bring their melta cannons to bear; incinerating whatever is left of the ship they've just attacked.

Obviously, this places an enormous strain on the structure of the _Resplendence_ , and the presence of so many melta weapons is a giant fire risk. As such, between the initiative of the ship's clans, and by upgrades made by my family over the centuries, the ship sports a number of field bracings which help to support the ship's structure in battle and fire suppression gases allow for the extinguishing of many flare-ups which tend to arise spontaneously on the ship.

 **History** :

The early history of the _Resplendence_ is mostly lost, and the clans of the ship refuse to share them with anyone save their keepers of memory, an esoteric order of record keepers who keep station near the ship's Gellar field generator. Tended to only by servitors and the rare outsider tech-priest granted permission to join the order. This group releases only the records they wish to be released and guard the rest of the ships history with a fanaticism not seen outside a Sororitas abbey.

What is known is that sometime, claimed to be in the Late Period M34[8] the Resplendence was part of a force known as the Garvanius Crusade, whose task was plunging into the Segmentum Obscurus and reclaiming several dozen imperial worlds rediscovered in the northern portion of the galaxy beyond the Eye of Terror. The Resplendence had just been constructed on the feudal world of Moorslandis, a planet dominated by feuding petty kings, dukes and other men and women of small repute who opted to waste time and energy fighting over some parts of dust on an insignificant mudball. The men and women who would go on to crew the ship were drawn from the ranks of the various hill clans who the lordlings frequently fought with. Ironically, considering how these situations usually go, it was the hill folk were more devoted to the Imperial Truth[9] than the lordlings and their "civilized" folk.[10] After a tumultuous war, the surviving hill folk were loaded into transports and sent to work on the ship in orbit, along with other supplies. For almost a century, they worked, becoming accustomed to space and the ship, and slowly making it their own.

Records after the launch are sketchy. While it is said the ship fought in the crusade previously mentioned, few logs or other bits of information are available. Whether this is due to a legitimate forgetting by the ship's crew or a deliberate obfuscation by the record keepers I do not know. Information about this time in Imperial history is scarce as well and often steeped in myth, but a few books recovered by my family seem to indicate that the crusade was an abject failure, with almost every ship being recorded as lost or listed as missing.[11]

Clan lore talks only about a period of time called "The Great Darkness", which seems to coincide with the long gap in records. Each clan will tell you a different story, but the general gist of it is that: following some cataclysmic attack on the ship which saw the extinction of many of the clans at the claws of the "Red Devils" and "Warriors of Rust", the ship spent an indeterminate period of time drifting through space, making only intermittent warp jumps and relying on high thrust and auto provisioning to make journeys initially. Surviving clans fought one another for resources, power, influence and command of the ship; it would appear the original imperial officers that commanded had died long prior.

Eventually, a mighty warrior named Herwin Macterra united many of the clans following a nine day contest of strength, wits, cunning, and war to become the first clan captain of the ship.[12] Finding a forge world near their position, they made haste and set about repairing the ship. While they sat in port, a minor Ork WAAAGH appeared in system and the ship helped defend against it. As thanks, the forge world gave the ship a few special upgrades.

After that, the records become fuzzy again, Herwin perished not long after[13] and the ship moved around the edges of Imperial Space. The clans apparently took to raiding xenos ships for supplies and traded with various Rogue Traders, becoming something of experts in boarding and slicing ships.

In M38, my ancestor, Calgar Von Helvik made contact with the _Resplendence_. Fresh off an assignment to the Maelstrom Zone, he was looking to add new ships to our family fleet. Upon finding the _Resplendence_ and its strange independence, he sought to add it. After several tentative contacts and deals, he eventually gained an audience with the ship's crew in person having only dealt with intermediaries and vox comms beforehand. Teleporting over, he then immediately challenged the captain to a contest for control of the ship.[14] Following a strategic use of murder servitors, he won the ship, and after a fight against an untimely demonic incursion, won the loyalty of the clans too.[15] In a sign of respect, he offered to let the clans pick their captains so long as they swore fealty to the family. The captains, thereafter assuming their rank, took the surname Calgar in honor of my august ancestor.

Since then, the _Resplendence_ has been an integral part of the family fleet. Fast enough to be a scout, but tough enough to be a fighter thanks to a number of upgrades, it's more than proven its worth in a number of situations. The _Lance of Hawk_ was taken largely because of the warriors clans of the _Resplendence_ and many of our finest shock troops come from this ship. In several planetary engagements, shock troopers from the Allclan Volunteers will rocket for the surface in drop pods, causing maximum havoc on enemy lines and landing sites to ensure our second and third waves of troops can land safely. Often the _Resplendence_ will coordinate with _Foremost Effect_ during these invasions to ensure the strongest deployment of their drop pod infantry.

The current captain, Shanice Calgar of the clan McDoogin, is a fiery green haired[16] woman with a penchant for charging into combat guns blazing and a sword clenched between her teeth, a good fit for the ship. The machine spirit of the _Resplendence_ seems largely similar to this in personality, eager to charge into battle, guns firing with all haste and engines pushing themselves even more so to reach ramming speeds and close the distance.

 _ **Culture-**_

The _Resplendence_ is divided among six major clans. While they have their own secondary clans that were subsumed by larger clans following the myriad of disasters and conflicts which plagued the ship, this record will look only at the major clans. In order:

 **Clan McDoogin-**

The McDoogins control the bow of the ship, stationing themselves where the ancient power ram and lance batteries are. Traditionally the McDoogins are the toughest warriors on the ship, charging into battle with all haste, chain swords in hand, and las pistols at the ready. With a reputation for bravery, but also bullheaded stubbornness, the McDoogins are responsible for some of the greatest triumphs, and disastrous losses incurred by the ship. When deployed planeside, McDoogin volunteers make up one component of the Resplendence's shock forces, often charging enemy lines with chain swords, belting out war cries. Veteran McDoogins will wield the larger two handed eviscerator chain swords.

Their clan color is green and typically wave a battle flag with a green hawk on a white field shooting a red beam from its skull eye.

 **Clan Yatani-Havish-**

Lords of the Port, this clan, like their rivals the Westlandamani in the starboard, are masters of one of the pyros melta cannon arrays. As such, they've developed an affinity for fire, much like their rivals and other groups on the ship as well.

Earlier in the ship's history, the port side of the Resplendence was split in half, with the northern half controlled by the Havish clan, while the south was controlled by the Yatani clan. For generations these two clans fought one another for control of the port, with clashes occurring almost every day as men and women would throw themselves over the line to fight. Today the old border is highlighted with a line of gold that was poured into the gouge where the demarcation line once was carved into the hull, to symbolize the conciliation between the clans. The molten gold was originally poured by Lysander and Hektor, the two clan leaders who married to unite their peoples and bring unity to the port. Their marriage was fortuitous, for not long after, a Westlandamani surprise attack with McDoogin assistance almost wiped out the port peoples, but with newfound strength in unity, the attack was repelled.

The Yatani-Havish clan colors are copper and silver, their battle flag is a repeating batter of squares alternating in color between the two.

 **Clan Westlandamani-**

Lords of the Starboard, the Westlandamani are known for their wine, women and raiding. Due to a genetic fluke from time immemorial, the Westlandamani produce a high number of females in birth, to a ratio of almost ten girls to every boy. After the first male clan leaders of the Westlandamani tried to use this to their advantage to create polygamous family units, the women of the clan quickly tired of that arraignment and overthrew the men.[17] Unfortunately, the men of the clan had spent so much time living sedentary lives that they were incompetent in all assigned tasks. Frustrated, the women took to raiding in order to acquire people who could actually do things needed to support the clan and fill the ranks with more workers. These were the first of the famous Westlandamni slave raids and the women of the Westlandamani discovered that they were quite good at it, so much so that even once their men shaped up and learned useful skills, they continued to raid and slave.

For generations, the She-Wolves of the Starboard were a scourge on the ship; fighting, plundering and slaving their way across the _Resplendence_. Their attacks only ended after Herwin Macterra defeated the bulk of their fighters in the Battle of the Twisted Deck.[18] After their defeat and integration with the ship, the starboard became known as the main center of alcohol production, particularly known for a vintage of wine made from one of the strains of algae produced in the food extruders.

Never forgetting their fighting ways though, the warriors of the starboard are known for their use of small chain axes and hand flamers, both for their intimidation factor (such tools are useful in cowing potential slaves) but also can be quite useful in close combat on the ship. Second only to the McDoogins in melee combat, the Westlandamani often accompany the bow clan in drop pod assaults on planets as part of the Allclan Volunteers.

The Westlandamani color is red, their flag is a golden goblet with a red ax embedded in it, set against a black backdrop.

 **Clan Gettoutt:-**

A highly secretive clan, not much is known about the Gettoutt; save for they control the ship's reactors and fire suppression system. Rarely seen outside the power core, the Gettout who do leave always travel in groups of five, all wearing golden cloaks with face concealing cowls and all but one have their lips ritually sewn shut. The unsewn one is the speaker for the group of five.

In battle, the Gettout make frequent use of las-carbines and are known for their tight squad discipline, They always arrange combat units with multiples of five. Many seem to communicate in some kind of archaic hand gesturing.

The clan flag is a golden sun on dark blue background. Their clan color is gold.

 **Clan Salvadorantus:-**

Masters of the engine and other parts of the ship's aft; the Salvadorantus are decedents of the thralls who once served the original Mechanicus crew of the ship before it vanished during the Great Darkness. After the old tech priests died, their servants were forced to try and keep the engines running using only their memories of the multitude of small, mundane tasks that they'd been given for the purpose of keeping the engine rooms running. In addition, they tried to replicate the actions and jobs of the decaying servitors in the ship's aft. From inserting a rod, to turning a nozzle to mopping in the floor, the people of the aft tried to recreate the protocols and rituals needed to placate the temperamental engines. From this, they eventually came to live a heavily regimented and ritualized life, even after new tech priest were finally added to the ship and could resume running the engines. Nowadays, their rituals and rites encompass everything from social greetings, mercantile exchanges, to even proclamations of love.[19] The clan leader of the Salvadorantus is known as the Master of Ritual, and he ascends to the position once he is able to perform the Rite of Leadership.[20]

In combat, the Salvadorantus make heavy use of various gas grenades mixed from potent cocktails of chemicals found in their portion of ship, which stores promethium and other byproducts. They also make heavy use of large flamer weapons and projectors when not lobbing noxious or hallucinogenic grenades. A strong pattern of trade has developed between the aft, port and starboard as all three need fuel for their flamer weapons.

As part of the Allclan Voluenteers, the Salvadorantus are known for being behind the lines and specializing in firing their grenades as their fellows charge the lines of their enemies.

The Salvadorantus clan color is orange; their clan flag is three interlocked yellow gears set to a grey background.

 **Clan Chetnin-**

Masters of the bilge, tunnels, and ducts, this furtive clan in the smallest, but one of the most influential. Largely absent from the typical clan politics, the Chetnin are a neutral force which act as intermediaries and go betweens for inter-clan conflict. This comes from being the maintainers of the various tubes and pipes which carry water and air through the ship.

While the clans fought one another, a subset of the clans realized that the wanton slaughter of the crew could endanger the critical life supports that ensured everyone's survival. To prevent one clan from stupidly and irreversibly damaging portions of life support to eliminate another, a pact in secret was forged by the smallest members of many clans. They had one goal; defend the pipes and ducts. When a McDoogin raiding party tried to sever a Gettoutt air duct, they were fallen upon by cloaked figures wielding wrenches and short spears. After other raids by different clans were also thwarted, the Chetin revealed themselves and after repelling several more attacks, were given clan recognition when the other clans realized the utility of no longer needing to worry about protecting life infrastructure. After the Great Toxic Spill of M38, the Chetin were also ceded control of the bilgeways and waste disposal units after a Westlandamani attack caused toxic waste to flood Decks BC 01 though BX 99 and rendered those sections uninhabitable for more than seven hundred years.

While outsiders tend to be disrespectful of the Chetin due to their lower deck ways, they are held in the highest esteem by the other clans. From this clan, air and water flows to the others, and wastes are removed without any interruption, while all stand secure in the knowledge that their pipes and tunnels will be clear of attack or intrigue. A Chetin also means that another clan was willing to talk or negotiate and so were sending the small smelly man or woman to be the go-between for diplomatic engagements.

Being shorter in stature than the members of other clans, yet confined in the narrowest parts of the ship where swinging a weapon is impractical, the Chetin make heavy use of shotguns to secure their holdings on the ship. When deployed planet side, Chetin volunteers make up infiltrator and commando teams that support landing sites for the rest of the Von Helvik forces.

The Chetin Clan color is brown, and their flag is a brown mongoose on a black background, a yellow shotgun and a spear cross each other behind the mongoose.

 _ **Other Organizations onboard the His Mighty Resplendence**_

 **The Allclan Volunteers:**

After Herwin Macterra united the Resplendence, he set about creating an armsman detachment for use and service on the ship, both to maintain order and to project small arms power outside the ship if needed. Not wanting to solely rely on McDoogin warriors, least a disaster devastate his clan's fighting potential, he sent a call for all the clans to send warriors to serve for the collective good of the ship. These first warriors tended to be second rate, castoffs, rebels and other malcontents from clans that were foisted off to so the clans could keep their best fighters.

It was only in M38, after my family took control of the Resplendence that this changed. With the ship no longer wandering, it found its-self deploying its armsmen in larger engagements. One of which was the Battle of Redwater Ridge, where several of our forces had been ambushed by our hated rivals, the Juneati family. Plunging to the planet below in newly installed drop pods, the Volunteers were themselves ambushed and nearly wiped out, but a single squad survived[21]. Trekking for hundreds of miles to reach an evacuation point, they arrived only for the main thrust of the Juneati attack to fall on the spaceport where the evacuation was ongoing. Charging in, swords and flamers in hand, they cut a bloody swath at the rear of the Juneati lines and fought their way to the spaceport entrance where they managed to catch the last evacuation transports out. Their surprise attack had allowed many transports to lift off as enemy forces focused on the surprise attack.

Acclaimed as Heroes of the Redwater, the Volunteers became a symbol of pride for my family and subsequently, for the _Resplendence_ as well. Warriors of all cloth worked for the honor of being placed in the regiment to prove their mettle in combat and receive similar honors. Today, the force is often used as a shock attack force when Von Helvik forces are landing on planet, falling from the heavens in drop pods and launching vicious hand to hand attacks on everyone in range.

 **Blessed Blowers of St. Balthazar**

Attached to the ship's primary shrine of the God-Emperor is a curious vox caster array that can pipe messages across an entire solar system with ease. This array has proven quite useful for the ship, as when it charges into battle, it prefers to broadcast loud proclamations of faith to the Emperor for all to hear. In addition to the great one hundred man choir who performs the ever noisy hymns of encouragement and war, there is a small order of men and women who, upon training their lungs to use such devices, blow loud horns created from the stomach of groxes and other animals and are attached to several pipes. Playing either in harmonious synchronization or in disturbingly off key haunting screeches these horns are blown and their sounds are carried to every vox comm in the system. Several servitors specially constructed will occasionally play instrumentation to accompany the horns. There are currently fifteen blowers in the organization currently, as the apprenticeship process can take a generation to train a new blower.

 **The Ghosts of the** ** _Resplendence_** **:**

Few will openly talk about these specters, but I know they're there, stalking the halls. You can feel it, chilling or scorching sensations that overwhelm your body for a moment, the ghostly flicker of the outline of a man, the whispers…

What archeologists and few brave adventurers I myself and my family have hired to plumb the depths of the Resplendence further can only tell us that the ghosts first appeared following the Great Darkness and that their influence over events in the real world can be difficult to pin down, both in motivation and in intent. On one hand, often people report seeing odd visages, a sighing of a man here, the flicker of a light there to the occasional leaking of blood from the wall.

Yet legend tells of crews on the auger and auspex feeling a hand guiding them and their minds as they scan the distances. Often small flickers can lead to important sightings of enemy ships, incoming dangers and other things that sometimes are missed on a first past. Several half mad borders from other times also reported wisps leading them astray and carrying them into traps or dead ends on the ship, with the malcontents only realizing this after following what was assumed to be running light into said trap or dead end.

Stories speak of the half broken image of a one handed man stalking the halls, though this is dismissed as heresy.

 _A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this little tangent into the one of the ships of the Von Helvik fleet. I figured once in a while I'd do a profile to help flesh out the ships that came into the ME universe since 40K ships often have histories and legacies of space travel going back further than many of the races in Mass Effects entire time being in space._

[1] In the event: My damnable brother Abraham, that accursed Inquisitor Ermelanth, my murderer from the Officio Assassinorum, Planetary Governor Sanna Rob Mancuso, the Eldar Farseerer known as Obin or that arrogant groxfarmer Chaddius is reading this journal without my permission I say Keep Out! Also enjoy the toxin I've laced this parchment with!

[2] And being a Mars Class Battlecruiser, the Acquisition has a lot of space to cover!

[3] Though obviously, being the leaders we are, its of course expected that we take as much of the glory as is warranted for leaders of our caliber.

[4] Which will hopefully provoke no open arguments and debates in the ships taverns like the previous round of ship details did? The last thing we want is another shipboard civil war on the Acquisition.

[5] Of Clan McDoogin

[6] Thanks to several modifications made by itinerant tech-priests and changes wrought by the ship clans, the safety margins of the ships engines were overclocked at least three thousand years ago.

[7] Only listed is ship components not in standard Dauntless's, though thanks to the changes my family and the clans have made, few standard parts remain.

[8] A rather poor millennium for the Imperium, between the Interregnum, that nasty business with the Howling subverting more than a thousand words, and the three century period where impractically large stovepipe hats made a return as the main go to fashion statement for many.

[9] Having only just been made the faith of the Imperium that Millennium.

[10] Who opted to practice something called Thelmic Mahayana Judaism, whatever that was.

[11] One thing we discovered was a rather grim series of children's fairy tales using the tale of the crusade as a parable for explaining human overreach and the folly of trusting people with impractically large stove pipe hats.

[12] I'm told one of the rituals involved pulling a chain sword out of an engine cooling unit. Another said that he climbed outside the hull without a space suit to clean the view screens of the bridge.

[13] Stories range from fighting a warp incursion during a jump, to a fiery explosion in Reactor 2, to coups, and to strange ghosts rumored to lurk in the ship.

[14] Thanks to the machinations of several of his crew and an enterprising undercover mission to the Resplendence earlier, he found several loopholes in clan law. One of which was a challenge for personal combat between a Clan Kill Team and Challenger Kill Team. This was generally avoided as clan kill contests tended to take months of hunting and killing which disrupted life on the ship. The murder servitors took five minutes to hunt their prey.

[15] Family records indicate the sudden disappearance of a pair of the Acquisition's astropaths at around the same time.

[16] A common dye among the McDoogins.

[17] To this day, the phrase "make your own damn sandwich!" is a stand in for "go screw yourself" and other similar phrases among the Westlandamani.

[18] According to lore, Macterra's forces and the Westlandamani fought a vicious close quarters fight in vacuum near a tear in the ships hull. An old child's rhyme says "Floating around Hull C, Macterra fights the Banshees, load up, load up, and destroy the Westlandamani!" Apparently propaganda efforts were a tad cruder in the past.

[19] Which involves first turning six knobs, polishing a diode, forging a small gear from scrap metal and scrubbing the floor of someone's living quarters before being permitted to approach a man or woman family for approval of said proclamation. If permission is granted, they when assist in hauling nine fuel bricks before approaching their beloved and then performing sixty three push-ups and standing to proclaim their love. If at any point they fumble this ritual, they must perform the scrub of penance which involves donning a void suit and going out to clean the sensor arrays on the outer hull.

[20] A tiresome seven day ordeal which involves memorizing many of the rituals of the clan and writing them down, the records must match perfect the previous Master of Ritual's book. It is not unheard of for rituals to have "totally matched" after particularly long periods of people trying and failing to performed the ritual.

[21] Though in truth it was actually seven squads worth of arms men who survived, but they all constituted themselves into one fighting unit.


	5. Chapter 4

"And your business is what exactly?" The armsman asked Ermlanth. He stood at attention with another five of his fellows, all wearing identical suits of dull grey carapace armor, each cradling a rather large las gun in their arms as they stood three on each side in front a large bulkhead. The interlocking plates and segments of their armor came together to form a rather bulky mass of protection. The armor made each look larger than he or she was, which when combined with the face concealing covers of their helmets with dull red ocular relays protruding outwards, complemented the figures.

Ermlanth was holding out a large badge, the I-shaped piece of metal was colored green and yellow, a circle with irregular edges dominated the upper half of the I and a set of metal wings stuck out at the far edges. In the center of the badge was carved skull. A rosette which stood as the sole indicator of his position within the vast Imperium, a badge which gave him absolute discretion; which as he held it in front of the indifferent guards seemed to account for very little. Ermlath thought briefly about the fleets that he'd ordered when he presented the badge, he saw the imposing visage of the Emperor's mighty cathedrals dropping burning las fire on planets below to expunge the threats he'd uncovered. He imagined the chapters of Asartes who'd followed his requests and recommendations upon his presentation of the small piece of metal, the hulking angels of death scything the battlefield and reducing their foes to chaff in the wind. He thought of the vast legions of guards who at his smallest word were mobilized en-mass to wage ceaseless campaigns of blood and fire across whole star systems, engulfed in the crucible of never ending war to bulwark the Imperium and the greater whole of humanity. All those and more, all at his insistence and all set in motion by the small rosette.

He sighed as he pocketed it, the dull metal pulling gently at his clothing as it weighed down. "I would like to speak with Captain Von Helvik, please" He said through his teeth. "Arrogant bastard" He thought bitterly as he feigned polite attention to the guard. The damned traders always acted the part of loyal citizens of the Imperium, but personal experience told him that usually lasted until they fired up the warp engines, then they'd slip a knife in your ribs. He mentally cringed at the memory of some unknown blade slamming into his side, a brief flash of pain dominating the thoughts in the back of his mind. "Make it look like a Xeno attack, then dump him out the airlock." The callous voice from a time long ago echoed.

He looked down briefly to shake the memory away, speaking as he raised his head to look into the dull red eyes of the guard''s helmet. "It's rather important business that I can assure you needs the utmost attention" he said slowly, trying to let each word carry its own weight and emphasis.

Von Helvik had cooperated in so far as he was required to by Imperial mandate, Ermlanth had been lucky to find his warfleet orbiting the forge world when he did, the Battlefleet Itano was away fighting several insurrections on the western edge on the sector and it would have taken precious time to reach them. He'd figured he could force enough cooperation from the damned trader to get him to fight the orks on his behalf and either destroy the threat, or at least substantially weaken it enough for a later imperial force to mop up. Either way, the Trader's fleet would have taken quite a bit of damage, which Ermlanth would shed no tears over. He was sure that the Von Helviks, like the rest of their Rogue Trader ilk were engaged in layers upon layers of heretical activities, shielding themselves behind the generous grants of privilege their ancient warrants allowed. No skin off his back if they lost a few ships.

"The captain is busy right now and has ordered no interruptions" the armsman said, his voice amplified by a vox communicator in his helmet, the sound bouncing off the walls and carrying far down the hall. "Did you make an appointment?"

"No, and the pages said that meetings were penned out for months in the future. This cannot wait, I must speak with the captain at once." Ermlanth said, straining to maintain the face of politeness as his heart rate accelerated and his teeth began to slowly gnash against themselves. Ordinarily, if he encountered someone obstinate like this, he could just turn and deal with someone else more cooperative, saving his fury for later; which was to say, a powerful incentive for someone to be cooperative. Unfortunately, Rogue Traders, so long as they operated beyond the border, per their Warrant, were afforded privileges and exceptions that rivaled that of the Inquisition The only saving grace was that the bastards fought among themselves often enough as to whittle down their numbers and keep the worst of their activities in some semblance of check. Plus on the rare occasion a family annoyed their peers enough or acted out in a manner that shocked even the other Traders, the Inquisition was usually shortly thereafter, flooded with enough evidence to bring decisive action down on the offending house, though usually it was the other houses who were given remit to attack and seize the errant trader's property. Ermlanth though all this bitterly as he was held up at the door.

"Well then I'm sorry Inquisitor, but without an appointment, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave" the guard said, motioning with the butt of his lasgun. Ermlanth imagined Von Helvik flashing a smug grin somewhere in the ship. Balling his fists, the hard leather cushioning the iron grip somewhat as his knuckles popped lightly. Ermlanth was about to turn back when he saw a hovering servo skull fly though a small opening above the door. It rotated side to side as it scanned the hallway with its red mechanical eye, the other socket holding some kind of blinking green light. The skull carried a data-slate with a stylus attachment and a few small mechanical graspers, but what stood out most to Ermlanth was the snow white powdered wig that sat on top of the skull, its sides were a tight rings of curls and the back had an interlaced pony tail that draped about a foot or so downward. After several moments of scanning, it floated back towards the hole and vanished into the captain's quarters.

A second later the armsman placed a hand to his ear, speaking to someone unseen. "Yes….of course…no he's still here….of course….at once my lord…" Ermlanth could hear as the man whispered in his helmet. Raising his head to look at the Inquisitor, he gestured to the other guards and all six stepped aside as the door made a series of clicking and whirring sounds. After what sounded like the sliding of several bolts it rolled away to its side, revealing a room that, when compared to the average meager quarters often offered to people living on imperial ships, was downright cavernous. "The captain will see you." the guard said, bowing slightly as he gestured into the room with an outstretched arm.

Stepping in, Ermlanth was greeted to a small wash of heat. To his right a fire was blazing in small alcove dug into wall, tended to by a small servitor which occasionally prodded the logs with a metal stick. A pair of caliper like arms held a spare log for the fire. Above the brick and metal façade of the fireplace were several mounted heads belonging to some unknown breeds of xenos. He thought he recognized the shaggy head of one, a predator species native to a planet in the Itano sector; a world known for: its never-ending blizzards, blubbery creatures the size of five men, fierce native predators who hunted said creatures and a particularity hardy species of berry that when mashed, created a potent neurotoxin. On Ermlanth's left was a giant map of Imperial space, golden pins with Aquila and other heraldry marked hundreds of locations on the map which seemed to be several meters long. Further in the room on both sides were shelfs stocked with an assortment of rolled parchment and other documents. On the wall at the end of the room was a massive three meter tall fresco of a man in a blue uniform with multicolored buttons and red sash. He was resting one foot atop a pile of gold, gems, cogitator screens and lasguns. His right hand held a boxy black pistol near his leg, smoke coming out of the barrel, and several spent bolts littering the ground near it. Above his black and gold bicorne hat he raised a golden chainsword, its teeth stained red. All the while the background was dominated by what looked to be some kind of xeno city ablaze. At the far end of the room, in front of the mural was a massive desk, made of wood and adorned with swirls and twists of gold and other precious metals, the ostentatious block of wood was weighed down by stacks of parchments, scales and other instruments of commerce. Hiding behind all the things was the man in the fresco, Captain Josiah Patternock Meriweather Von Helvik, who was furiously scribbling and crossing a piece of parchment with a massive quill.

"No no, that's grammatically incorrect! Damnable quill! How many times must I go back and edit my passages?" he muttered to the parchment. Ermlanth began to cross over to the desk, after he stepped in several meters, the captain looked up. "Inquisitor" he said "Please take a seat" waving his quill to the space in front of him. A treaded servitor the size and shape of a small child rolled out from behind some unseen panel in the wall, dragging a large wooden chair with a high back that looked as though it was several heads taller than either man. It set the chair down with an audible thud before vanishing once more. Ermlanth walked over and sat on the chair's thick velvety cushion with a dull plop. Adjusting himself quietly for a moment, he looked back up to see the captain scribbling away. Leaning forward, he steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on the tops of his knees, absentmindedly tapping his lips.

"Captain, a pleasure" Ermlanth said feigning a smile from behind his index fingers as he looked at the trader. The man was dressed in a uniform that was vaguely martial, as though he'd taken the already ludicrous garb worn by the high admirals of the fleets and added even more unnecessary accessories. The blue coat beneath the golden glowing cloak had more than a dozen buttons; each made from a different gem cradled by a bed of precious metal going down the coat's center. Horizontal lines of additional golden fabric, or quite possibly, gold made to be fabric were also present, cutting more than a dozen extra lines on the uniform. The cloak was protruding from Von Helvik's shoulders where Ermlanth suspected layers upon layers of padding were propping up the impossibly large shoulder pauldrons which had golden tassels cascading down the captain's upper arms. A scarlet sash adorned with medallions and pendants; all in the shapes of eagles, skull and other imperial regalia completed the ensemble as it crossed Von Helvik's chest from his left shoulder to his unseen waist

Von Helvik nodded and looked at Ermlanth, his red bionic eye unmoving, staring back with a dull red glow. His face was surprising lacking in any ornamentation apart from the bionic eye, which was absent from the painting. Von Helvik kept his black goatee as neatly trimmed as his short dark straight hair. "Ah Inquisitor" he said slowly. Apart from a couple wrinkles near his temples, only a thin scar which went from forehead down the side of his left cheek, near the bionic eye, served to give Ermlanth any distinct impression about the man's face. "And to brook no insult to the adjudicators of the Emperor's will, I do hope we can hurry this along. I'm quite busy and your order tends to speak in riddles that take too much time to unravel." he said, leaning back as he mentioned the Inquisition. His hands vanished to his lap.

Emlanth for his part remained still, meeting Von Helvik's gaze and refusing to budge his eyes. He chewed on his words before speaking "Of course. I'm here because I'm curious as to why I was not invited to the meeting of your fellows the other day. I've noticed a rather abundant movement of activity through the ship and I have it on good authority that we're somewhat beyond the borders of Imperium space. To sound immodest, I have quite a bit of knowledge and experience in navigating beyond our borders and would be more than happy to assist, if we are in fact stranded."

Von Helvik's real eye narrowed for a split second, his body appeared to twinge before returning to its formerly statuesque stillness. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came for the briefest of moments. As the captain seemed to gather his thoughts; he spoke, slowly, deliberately, with an almost sickly sounding tone of conciliation. "I do apologize for that oversight, Inquisitor." He said, his eye open wider, his mouth showing a few too many teeth as he smiled and his voice an octave or two higher than before. "It must have just slipped my mind. So many details, so many small bits of organization, and your type is just always there in the shadows, ready to slip through the cracks like a small bug." He finished with a small clap of his hands from behind the desk. "But you're here now though. From what you've told me, you've already been doing what your kind does best, skulking and digging in all the grox shit out there to find whatever snippet of gossip you want to manufacture." He said as his toothy smile vanished behind a grim frown. His voice rose with each word "So tell me, what can I do to put my family's assets at your disposal after you did such a good job of getting them lost in the bowels of the Warp?" he finished, his face a darker shade than it had been before, his last word echoing around the spacious room.

"I'm not asking that you give me anything but some time" Ermlanth said, unlacing his fingers and opening his palms as he leaned back slightly. "I can't change what happened captain, I'm just as far removed from civilized space as you are, and I'm just as eager to get back. I just happen to possess a set of skills, skills that I've acquired over a long career, all I'm asking is that you at least let me use them to try and help us return home." he said, voice neutral as to not betray the weight in his chest. Out here, Inquisitors and Rogue Traders were theoretically equal in rank. In practice, everywhere around Ermlanth, Von Helvik owned every ship, every gun and almost every-man, Ermlanth had a gun-cutter and five acolytes, two of who, mostly just stayed on the cutter to run it and occasionally follow him to make his entourage seem larger and more intimidating.

"Oh that's it then? Just a humble request for supplication? Inquisitor you honor me so!" Von Helvik's hand slapped over his heart, jingling a few of his pendants and medals as he did so. "Shall I retrieve my family's ancestral sword and dub thee an honored squire of our house?" the captain's fists began to clench as his eyes narrowed "and then once you've gotten free reign to see everything, then as a humble, and pious servant you'd be forced to report on all the horrible "heretical" activities you'd seen in your struggle for survival." The man laughed in a way that was half a mad giggle and half nervous chortle. "I wonder what you'd send to end me? A temple assassin? A Sororitas Commandery? Ooo, or maybe an Astartes kill-team.? I'm personally partial to being seduced and poisoned by a beautiful woman, though if that's not an option I'll take the blaze of glory!"

His fist then pounded the desk, a loud echo of metal gauntlet on wood reverberated through the captain's quarters. As he spoke, all the humor had left his voice, leaving it deep and controlled. "Situations like this rarely occur by happenstance Inquisitor" He retorted coolly, eye still narrowed "After this narrow escape, I'm hesitant to admit you any closer to my precious assets. "

Ermlanth bit the inside of his lip as he pondered what to say. Theoretically he could use his authority to dismiss the Captain and requisition any of his ships, it was within his power. In practice though he knew that he was alone with only his acolytes for support in this dark, forgotten corner of space. All the nearby ships were Von Helvik's and all the people his too. If he was lucky he might get one ship to defect, but then that'd still leave the fleet, and with no way of figuring out how to get home…"No" he thought "I'll have to play this one diplomatically".

"I won't force you to do anything more captain" Ermlanth said slowly, as he though on each word he spoke. He returned the Captain's stare. "My mission was to locate and eliminate the xeno threat. Apart from cursory knowledge, my interest and experience with the Warp is very limited. Clearly, we're in some unknown location and by writ, you have command. I won't try and subvert that when all our survival depends on cooperation and focus. What I ask is that I be informed about the current happenings of the fleet, what I offer is the skills of myself and my team. Through cooperation, we might be better able to find our way home, and even possibly find new things that could be of use to the Imperium, even if it's just knowledge of xenos operating out in the periphery."

"So don't go throwing me or my people out an airlock you son of a bitch" he thought to himself.

The captain said nothing for what seemed like an eternity, he looked at Ermlanth, his regular eye still narrowed and his bionic eye glowing a faint red. Apart from the dancing quill in his right hand, the Captain didn't stir, like stone he sat. Ermlanth was about to try and speak more when Von Helvik finally said something, low voice filling the air like a whisper in the wind.

"I see, I see" he said, setting the quill down and leaning back in his ornate chair, his left hand moved to gently cradle his chin, vanishing behind the small curtain of facial hair. "I appreciate your candor Inquisitor, you're the first one of your order I've met who didn't speak like a damned Eldar." his face pulled back to form a snakelike grin "I agree, it's best not to dwell on the circumstance of our arrival, our focus needs to be on returning to civilized space."

"I'm...glad to hear that captain." Ermlanth said neutrally, taking several small breath of cautious relief, the Trader could still very well be playing all seemed too easy, his mood had gone from enraged to calm and cooperate.

"However" Von Helvik said holding up a hand "I think your skill will be wasted here. Until we know for sure how to depart this area of space, most of the fleet will be remaining here, including my own. ship As I and many of my most trusted retainers have duties to attend to, you'll be able to stand in partial stead of my authority as the ships explore."

It was Ermlanth's turn to raise a skeptical eyebrow, the captain's sudden generosity was surprising to say the least. "I appreciate the trust captain" he said in his most gracious tone "what ship will I be flying with?"

Von Helvik pressed several buttons hidden on his side of the desk and the hologram of a warship appeared between the two men. The ship was dotted with a number of Aquillas carved into the metal hull. As it rotated slowly, Ermlanth examined the boxy ship intently. It was rather small, hardly more than a kilometer and a half by his rough estimate. He could see square shaped cubbies and turrets of the dorsal part of the ship and several over-sized engines protruded from the rear. It was the bow that most intrigued him, rather than the characteristic sleek ram of many ships, he saw that it'd been replaced with the massive figurehead of a woman with her arms outstretched, surrounded by flames. Around the statute were a half dozen large emitter tubes which faced out into the void.

"The _Eternal Crimson_ , she's been making the rounds of exploration near our current position. Like the rest of the fleet, she'll be due back after the latest report. What I offer is this, take your gun-cutter and transfer over to the _Crimson_. Once we retrieve the initial batch of astrological data, most of the fleet will be staying put here, only my smallest and fastest ships will continue to explore and scout. I need as many experience hands on those ships as possible. People who can keep a cool head when plunging into the unknown, and people I know can make an honest accounting and assessment of xenos, should we find any out here."

"I'm curious captain, why have me leave? Not to look a gift grox in the mouth, but this seems rather sudden."

Von Helvik pause for a moment, as though he was thinking hard on how to approach what he was trying to say. "Captain Albinus is a fine tactician,." He said, stressing the "fine" "he can command his ship with a skill that rivals only myself and Captain Leinwand." He paused, clicking his jaw as he did so. "Unfortunately...What he lacks that his tactical skill offsets is a calm head for, delicate situations. Albinus is a very... pious man Inquisitor, and rather quick to anger at any perceived slight against: The Emperor, The Imperium, my family or himself. With us being in unknown space for an indeterminate amount of time before we can return home and with no clear path, I'd rather not become embroiled in conflict that can be avoided with diplomacy."

"And you think I'd be best suited to this task?"

"The captain knows his place, he's deferential to those in certain positions. So long as I give him notice that you'll be there, he'll understand. As an executor of the Emperor's will you'll hold high station with him, second only to my own. The rest of my captains have proven themselves in one way or another to be...tactful in unknown situations, Albinus is the exception, not the rule you understand. I'll feel much more comfortable knowing someone who can be... diplomatic will be there."

"So I have to keep a zealot from blowing his lid. Marvelous!" Ermlanth thought bitterly, but only nodded appreciatively. If this is what it took to get in Von Helviks good graces, then so be it. The one knot though was that it was everything he needed. Rogue Traders weren't in the habit of giving someone an advantageous deal. There were strings and catches he couldn't see even with the obvious warning Von Helvik gave him.

"I accept, Captain" he said, grimacing in his mind as we wondered when the hammer would fall. Will the _Crimson_ be returning soon? he asked

"Wonderful" Von Helvik said. His one eye relaxed and opened, and his lips parted to reveal a pearl white smile, though the captain once again was showing a few too many teeth to be considered a genuine sign of happiness. "Yorvik" he called to the empty room. From above, a familiar servo skull floated down, the powdered wig bouncing slightly as it descended and hovered next to the captain. He produced a new piece of parchment and scribbled something Ermlanth couldn't see before he rolling the parchment and jamming a small metal rod into the paper. Pulling it away, the faint smell of burning wax filled the air as Von Helvik handed the scroll to the skull, which took it in a pair of its small pincers. "Bring this down to Inquisitor Ermlanth's ship and give it to one of his companions." he ordered as the skull wordlessly floated over to the hole above the door and vanished. Rising from his desk, the captain moved towards the door, gesturing for Ermlanth to follow. To two exited and made their way down the hall, the armsmen by the door saluting as they left. He'd ignored his last question entirely, Ermlanth realized as they walked.

Von Helvik pointed to a number of things as they strode, one room he said was home to a contingent of armsmen who'd proven themselves in some battle important to his family. He'd gestured to an oil painting of some garishly dressed woman standing atop the corpse of an ork holding a smoking plasma rifle. According to the captain it was one of his grandmothers, or aunts or some other woman in his wretched and likely inbred family. He prattled on and on for some time.

The two walked down the hall, keeping abreast of one another and forcing all in their path to quickly compress themselves against the walls to make space, many attempted to snap awkward salutes or twist their bodies to bow at their presence; or more specifically Captain Von Helvik's presence, Ermlanth went more or less unnoticed and ignored by the people around them. The captain continued to speak about more banal and uninteresting tidbits of history from his family.

"...From the wreckage of the Valkyrie that carried my uncle" Von Helvik finished as he pointed at a gnarled twist of metal hanging from one of the walls. They'd been walking for ten minutes by this point and Ermlanth had only been half paying attention to Von Helvik's boasting, choosing instead to focus in more on various corridors and passageways, hoping to memorize them in case he needed to ever make a break for it, or sneak around the ship. To their left he could see a member of the ship's janatorium crew mopping the floor next to an air vent. He turned and smiled, snapping a clumsy salute at the captain.

Ermlanth was about to ask something when the vent cover exploded in a cloud of metal and other dust particles, the man scrubbing the floor near it coughed and gasped in surprise, dropping his bucket and cloth as he brought his uniform to his mouth, He took two steps to the side when three long sharp dull-grey metal talons erupted out of his chest, showering the newly cleaned flood in an arterial spray of blood. The man looked down and saw the talons now protruding from his torso, he was strangely silent, lolling his head to his left as a small dribble of blood appeared at his mouth, which was open as though something between a scream and a question were forming at his lips. Behind him the glow of a pair of crimson orbs were visible through the darkness and the dissipating cloud of dust. Ermlanth saw the grinning face of a skull. A faint mechanical whine could be heard as the man was pulled back into the vent, leaving a streak of blood behind him as Emlanth and the captain had both raised their pistols and were firing at the spot where it had just been.

"Horus cursed servitor!" the captain roared as he sprinted to the vent. His pistol aloft, he fired several times into the vent, Ermlanth hearing the faint detonations as each bolt exploded somewhere further back in the twisting maze of life support passages. Von Helvik's eyebrows were turned downwards, he real eye open wide and his artificial one glowing bright red, his lips curled in a snarl. As he fired the last round, and sighed rather audibly as the skittering sounds in the vent faded further away. Von Helvik quickly produced another magazine from beneath his cloak and reloaded the boxy bolt pistol before holstering it. He looked up to one of the servo skulls floating overhead "Refill that magazine and have it brought to my quarters" he ordered, pointing to the empty magazine on the ground. The small skull dutifully dropped down and grabbed the metal box with several of its tweezer-like mechanical graspers before it lifted itself off and vanished into one of the small port holes that cut into the ceiling.

"Apologies Inquisitor" he said, looking at Ermlanth "That damnable thing has been making a nuisance of itself. Come let's continue!"

Ermlanth's eyes lingered on the wrecked vent cover for another couple of of seconds before his legs began to carry him forward, the captain having already turned and was walking down the hallway with a flourish of his golden cloak. Taking several long hurried strides, he caught up with Von Helvik. "I heard talk of a loose servitor aboard, I take it this isn't normal?"

"For day to day operations, no." the captain said, hurrying his own pace as they rounded a corner, passing by several uniformed armsmen marching down the corridor, las guns in hand as they escorted a red robed engiseer. "But the situation's well enough in hand."

"How many has it taken so far?"

"With that fellow, the official count is seventeen, all janitorium personnel. At this rate we won't have enough people to keep my busts polished and our floors immaculate. Dark times Inquisitor, dark times." He said as they approached a large door. Ermlanth nodded, but thought that if the thing was just targeting cleaners and scrubbers, nothing important was being lost. Better to let it continue then waste valuable arms men trying to fight the thing. He felt a shiver as he remembered the dark tunnels of a ship from half a lifetime ago, the passageways lined with blood and gore as they hunted a group xenos and the traitorous tech priests who'd joined them. He'd begun to vaguely remember hearing something about murder servitors carrying pre-programmed limits on the number of people they could slay in autonomous mode when they reached the large double door made of ornately carved wood and lacquered with gold and adamantium, the drawings and patterns he'd seen members of the Ordo Malleus forge to ward themselves and others from the machinations and intrusions of vile warp spawn.

A full dozen heavily armed guards stood at attention outside this door, Most cradled rifle-sized flamers, the upward tilt of the weapons told Emlanth the heavy metal cylinders near the trigger were likely filled to the brim with promethium, ready to leap out and incinerate anyone in its sight with bone melting sticky fire. After a wave of the captain's hand they went to work. Several men climbed ladders placed at the side and upon reaching the top of the door, slung their flamers , grasped a large metal knob and lifted. A faint groan of metal could be heard as the latches were hoisted from their sockets and dropped, Ermlanth could hear the sound of metal bolts sliding downwards inside the door. On the bottom the guards fellows performed a similar action on several more knobs. Once the men scrambled down from the top, others began turning a pair of large copper colored cranks, one on each side. He could hear several more sets of hidden metal bars slide out of position. With an audible click, the cranks stopped and the guards moved to the doors, each one grabbing a handle and pushing inwards, both hinges and men groaning with the effort. A rush of stale air greeted Ermlanth and Von Helvik with a faintly dusty whisp as they stepped inside.

The room was circular and spacious, a thick rug made of some unknown shaggy material covered the floor, soft looking cushions formed a semicircle in a small depression in the center of the room. A marble pedestal adorned with doubled headed aquillas sat in the middle of the depression, rising several meters up. In addition to the pedestal, a dozen white marble pillars were spaced out equally around the room to form a circle around the smaller ring in the middle. Each pillar was filled with carved reliefs of the Emperor, his Astartes and other triumphs of the Imperium, as well as selected passages from the various holy texts of the Ecclesiarchy, most of them various litanies, parables and hymns for guarding the mind and warning of temptation. The walls of the domes were filled with a honeycomb pattern of silver hexagrams interlocking with one another to form an unbroken silver web that carried all the way to the ceiling of the dome, the black paint making the thin lines stand out even more so to Ermlanth's eyes.

Standing around the pedestal were a half dozen barefoot men and women wearing identical pale green robes, plain, save for a pair of golden aquila pendants, one at their waist, holding a loose rope belt with several chains draping down towards their legs; the other at their necks, holding the clasp to their hoods. Several had metal bands around their eyes, while one wore a simple white cloth around hers. The rest adorned their faces with nothing and Ermlanth saw their empty eye sockets, black as the night staring at nothing as they murmured in chant. Three of their members were holding staves as dark as their empty eye sockets, thin long frames connecting to a flat board with the icon of a golden radiating eye appearing on both sides. Two dipped the staffs towards the pedestal, while a third held his tall. The low chanting continued.

"Expecting a message then?" He asked Von Helvik as they looked at the astropathic choir; the psykers seeming to take no notice of the pair.

"Several actually" Von Helvik responded, eyes focused on the group "You asked to be included, so here we are. I sent several ships out the day the meeting ended. They've been scouting the stars for these three days, short distances mind you, but hopefully enough of a distance so that we can get an accurate enough reading of the star fields and warp currents around our position. If we can confirm the presence of several well known astrological positions and formationsm as well as certain currents, we'll get a better sense of wherever in the Veiled Region, or Halo Stars, or wherever that accursed storm blew us."

The sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor drew Ermlanth's attention. He turned his head back to the entrance. A red robed tech priest walked in, accompanied by blindfolded man who wore the same dull robes of the others in the room. Behind them, a dozen servitors wordlessly labored to drag a large metal cube behind them. Their wheels turning slowly on the metal floor to gain enough traction to pull the thing. Once they hit the shaggy carpet, their pace slowed considerably as the thick fibers made turning their wheels difficult. Following behind the cube was a man wearing purple robes, a pair of walking servitors accompanied him, carrying a smaller metal box between themselves. Tall and painfully thin, the man' arms poked out at awkward and spindly angles. His face was pale, almost sickly grey apart from his dark blue lips. In the center of his forehead, a strange fold of skin was present, taking up much of his brow space.

"Navigator" Ermlanth greeted as the man entered the chamber. Looking at the cube as it drew closer, he saw it was adorned with the what he assumed was the navigator's sigil, a skull atop a set of wings and the three numeral in the skull's center brow.

"Inquisitor" he croaked is a raspy voice "A pleasure." He rotated his head slightly and saw Von Helvik. "Ah, Jos- Captain, I take it the honored guest has been introduced?"

"Not yet" he said, gesturing to the man "Inquisitor, may I introduce Kessler Stah, our esteemed navigator." Ermlanth looked and gave him a nod in greeting. "The Stahs have been impeccable allies to my family for more than a millennium, and Kessler has steered the _Acquisition_ true for longer than I can remember."

"Thirty three years captain" he croaked with a gentle smile. "Forty, if you count my time here while my father steered."

"I remember your father looked way better at your age then you do!" the Astropath said over his shoulder as he approached the chanting choir. Kessler gave a rather loud huff as he raised his pointed shoulders . "Hrumph! Hardly, I dare say I'm a perfect specimen of health. Prime of my life in fact!"

"Emperor protect us all if that's the prime of our life" the astropath gestured somewhat randomly in the direction of Kessler, lazily spinning his hand as he spoke.

"Its nice you're not using those damned messengers anymore!" Von Helvik said. Ermlanth turned and saw the captain smiling, It lasted only a moment though, as the captain returned to his stony expression when he saw Ermlanth glancing over. He cleared his throat. "Anyways, this is mister Augustus Hoyal, our chief astropath, and leader of this choir" he said, pointing to the green robed man. He was leaning on a black staff like several of the others carried. His empty eye sockets were uncovered, through his long shaggy white hair nearly draped over them.

"Inquisitor" the man called over his shoulder, voice lower than it had been just moments before. "Welcome"

"And of course, the Magos of our ship, Brith." the captain turned and motioned to the tech priest. The priest didn't turn as he focused his attention on the cube. His arms were spread forward and several long metal appendages appeared out of his arms, clacking away at some something in front of him. From his back, a pair of mechadendrites were working the exterior of the cube, a large clamp like limb was pulling levers while a smaller, almost willowy looking artificial limb rapidly cycled through a number of attachments and made minute changes to knobs, dials and plugs. The Magos remained silent as his limbs whirled with cold precision, only the faint sound of an artificial respirator carried over the sound of his work, the slow, bellow-like sound as air was sucked in and and exhaled through metallic grills.

Looking beyond the priest, Ermlanth got a better look at the device. It was an almost perfect cube, three meters in any direction and and dull gold in color, from in front of the Brith came a small, almost sickly green glow, which ,after he craned his neck, he saw as a small screen.

"Our secondary cogitator navigational matrix" the captain explained, tilting his head to the device. "We'll receive navigational inputs and coordinates from the ships we sent out a while ago, their own cogitator will have a rough approximation of their position. We'll simply feed those bits of information into this device and after setting our own ships coordinate as a true reference point, we should be able to find where we are."

The Inquisitor raised a curious eyebrow at Von Helvik "This all seems rather cumbersome. Couldn't we just use our telescopes to locate the galactic center and use that as a basic point of reference? We could have set out days ago."

"Oh, we already have a very rough approximation of our location" Kessler chimed in, his raspy voice echoing in the chamber "Between my charts, looking at the galactic center, other points of reference and the basic navigational cogitator, I figure we're somewhere in or beyond the Segmentum Ultima by best estimate. And to be honest, considering the circumstances of our suprise travel, only being blown thousands of lightyears from one segmentum to another is not the worst fate."

"Best estimate?" Ermlanth asked. While it was true figuring out precise locations in space could be rather difficult, determining which Segmentum one was in was far easier. Even without the light of the Astronomican basic stellar charts and navigational interfaces could tell you which of the five massive segments of the Imperium you were in with little difficulty.

"Correct Inquisitor" the captain said with a deliberate slowness, " We have a rough approximation, but the stellar patterns don't match our charts. Everything is off by a small margin or another. As to your earlier question, yes we could have already left, but then I wouldn't know the exact location of this bubble of space." he announced making a sweeping gesture to the ceiling. "This will give me the precise coordinates, or at least, coordinates close enough to find my way back."

"That makes little sense though" Ermlanth said, looking from Von Helvik to Kessler "If we're somewhere in the Segmentum Ultima, then we should be able to see the Astronomican."

"The device has been prepared." a voice that sounded as though it came from a static filled vox channel. The Magos, Brith, stood still in front of the device, his metal limbs eerily still as he waited to input information into the coginator. Ermlanth though he caught the faint whiff of oil mixed with incense waffing from the two.

Von Helvik pulled an antique chrono from his pocket and flipped it open, the bronze and silver facade of the timekeeper reflected off the dull lights that filled the black chamber, Ermlanth though he could see the faint etching of a skull in the center of an aquilla on the face of the chrono before the captain snapped it shut and pocketed it in his cloak. "Any moment now" he said, eyeing the choir, whose chanting had ceased. It was only then he realized how silent the chamber was.

Ermlanth was ready to interject with more questions when Augustus curved his back slightly, bracing himself with the staff, practiced familiarity seeme to take him as the others began to chant rapidly, three dipping staves towards the pedestal while the others placed their fingers to their temples. Ermlanth felt a faint sense of static in the air as the astropath began to speak. "Resplendence Reporting...All nominal...no anomalies or hostiles... M-class star...three mild jungle planet...one jovian with moons...Cognition coordination... seven seven five two three six five nine twelve dash forty dash sixty nine dash two dash…" he trailed speaking the words with a booming cadance and echo that crowded the large chamber. Behind Ermlanth, he could hear the Magos furiously clicking away at the device, limbs whirling and bionics flying over the interface with mechanical precision. He thought he heard a low hum from the navigation coginator.

The astropath continued to list numbers for another twenty seconds, then returned to his normal upright posture, the others resuming the low chorus and raised their staves once more. He turned to the others. "That wasn't bad at all" he cracked a small grin "Hardly any Warp interference at all, we could have probably done that without any signal boosting if we wanted." he waved to his chanting choir. "No offence, you all did as well as you usually do."

The captain simply nodded, offering no commentary on his astropath's words, though Ermlanth made sure to take a mental note of it. He'd already learned about the strange calmness in the warp around this area days prior, but a lack of interference, dark whispers, and other usual difficulties in any astropathic messaging was simultaneously encouraging, interesting, and deeply disturbing.

The procedure repeated itself a number of time, Augustus rattled off more numbers than an Administratum accountant compiling a casualty reports, Brith clattered away at the coginator while the captain and Kessler watched. Eventually, the last report filtered through and Brith's ceaseless gesticulations stopped as quickly as they'd begun. The low hum from the device turned into an audible whirl as it began to unravel and make sense of the numbers that had been fed into it. Slowly, a long sheet of parchment began to slide out of the side, lines and numbers incomprehensible to Ermlanth dotted the entirety of the sheet. After a long minute it came to a sudden stop as the machine slowly powered down.

The servitors moved over to the smaller box, mechanical injectors and limbs moving back and forth along it. Several red lights along the left and right side of the box blinked rapidly each time a new dial was turned and as a empty port was plugged with one of the servitors needle-like appendages. Eventually the blinking stopped and the lights turned a solid green as the lid of the box parted in the center and fold to both sides like a bird stretching its wings. A small pneumatic hiss could be heard from the box as metal cradle was pushed outwards. Affixed to it were seven long, thick tubes, colored brown and easily a meter long. As the cradle came to a stop, Kessler and Brith pushed past and moved to the cylinders, with the captain extolling them to be careful. as they pulled one of the tubesl, it detached with a small hiss. Holding is as though he was holding a newborn child, Kessler brought the tube to the Captain, he placed a thumb on its lid, after a moment subtle pop could be heard and Von Helvik unscrewed the lid, extracting a rolled up piece of parchment.

A pair of servo skulls floated over, one grasped a corner of the parchment in small, delicate graspers, the usually pointed pincers had been replaced with a, flat tong-like manipulator covered in what looked like velvet. Slowly unrolling the massive sheet, Von Helvik paced backward, face screwed in concentration as he handled the parchment. It looked to be a pale brown, almost translucent in many places, with ragged corners and lines upon lines of carefully written navigational routes. As it finished unfurling and the other skull grasped it, the map was displayed in all its tattered glory. Unlike its much adorned cousin in the Captain's room, this one held only thin, delicate lines linking a myriad tangle of dots. Numbers, navigational runes and other familiar markings stood out next to the lines and dots and small unknown letterings an incomprehensible scribble to Ermlanth. Brith and Kessler stood in front of the map, muttering quietly to themselves, the Magos's respirator taking in loud intakes of breath which covered up their conversation. After several minutes, Kessler moved to the map and gently pointed a finger to a dot near the bottom right, careful to not lay a finger on the parchment.

"Hmmm" was all Kessler said. Brith looked at the map and appeared unmoving as usual. Von Helvik, Augustus and Ermlanth watched the two, waiting for more information. "It is working, right" Kessler whispered to the Magos who gave a single nod in affirmation. Wheeling around, the Navigator spoke with a slow deliberate voice. "I have excellent news and horrible news!"

"Let's hear the bad news first" the Captain grimaced.

"We'll it appears we're definitely in the Segmentum Ultima like we thought and we're in Imperial space, the bad news is according to these charts, we're very close to quite a few planets, so if that's true then laying a stake to all these world will be difficult." He pointed to several of the planets. "An Astartes chapter planet is here, and if you go over a bit more, you'll find a forge world of some repute, and further around are more standard worlds. Go down a little more and you hit more locations. subsectors and the like."

"If that's so then how is this cluster unknown?" the captain demanded, opening a palm expectantly towards Kessler and Brith. The Magos remained motionless himself, but his mechadendrites appeared to gesture slightly up and down in a rapid motion. Kessler sighed and turned to the shaft, pointing a circles of sharp jagged lines.

"My best guess would be this. Celtor's Flux, it's a smaller warp storm but still its presence might be why. Despite refining our coordinates we're still within an area one hundred or so light years in any direction, still plenty of worlds and stars that might have gone unnoticed."

The name of the warp storm sounded familiar to Ermlanth as the four others began to talk among themselves. Slowly he asked "Navigator, what are the names of the more prominant worlds in that cluster you mentioned?"

"Oh, let's see. We have Talon, I believe that's home to an Astartes chapter, and Endragiga is the for-"

"Did you say Endragiga?" Ermlanth's eyes fluttered wide open as he stared at the map and the Navigator. When Kessler answered with a surprised "yes", he wheeled around and looked at the astropath, who was facing in his direction.

"Did any of the captains say the worlds they found were life bearing?" he asked in the same low tone.

"Yes...I believe they mentioned several rather pleasant planets or worlds that are candidates for possible changing later…"

Ermlanth whipped his head around, first from the map, then the crew and then finally to Von Helvik. Trying to speak slowly through his rapid breaths, he tried his best to regain his composure.

"And you are sure of your charts, your machine and your messages? Nothing is broken or given over to falsehoods" he asked the Kessler, Brith and Augustus respectively. It couldn't be, it had to be an error.

"Oh course!" Kessler said as he pointed to the chart "These maps have been passed down for generations upon generations, annotated, and updated as my family flies a thousands ships to a thousand worlds to a thou-" he wheezed before he could continue his thought.

And the cogitator, it's in working condition, no inconsistencies or issue?" he asked Brith. Newer cogitator like this one likely was tended to have issues of quality in their reporting.

"Do not insult the gift of the Omnissiah child!" Brith boomed, his mechadendrites rising a noticeable half meter in the air and his tilting posture suddenly straight. The vox enhanced voice sounded the same, but lost a lot of the slow deliberateness it had earlier. "This particular machine was forged in the Dark Age of Technology! Used in a time when ships like ours numbered so high they darkened the sky and the Omnissiah's grace was at its apex. It is clear of taint, error, mistake, bug, maleficence and apostasy! Do not demean his gifts, boy!" his last word run through the hanger with a mechanical clang. Ermlanth was silent, though he looked at the cube with a new respect. These people were dragging an archeotech cogitator around the ship like it was a cart or plow?

"And yes I'm sure I heard everything right, I've been doing this for twenty years, if I can't listen to something someone says in my brain and then repeat it two seconds later, I'm an abject failure at my job, Emperor forbid" he said with a single lazy wave of his hand.

"Inquisitor what are you going on about?" the captain demanded "If you know something speak!"

"Captain." Ermlath said, slowly, calmly, but with a small crackle in the tone "If your people did everything right and all your equipment is functioning properly, then something has gone horribly wrong. All the world's Kessler listed...along with anything living for hundreds of lightyears around them...should be dead."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Oi Gobshack!" a loud, angry yell came from behind the mek as he peeled away another plate of armor from the wreck. The metal groaned loudly as the large metal pincer grabbed one end and wedged its self between a gap in the metal. With a quick, jerking motion, the plate ripped off with a tearing sound as sparks shot out from a dozen zigzag cuts. Flinging it to the side with his oversized bionik arm, Gobshack laughed in satisfaction as the sheet slammed into a pair of grots who'd be absentmindedly standing around, the others nearby laughed heartily as the meaty crunch could be heard around the hanger. Turning his head, he saw Kaptain Bludchoppa standing behind him.

"'Ey Kapin, whatcha need?" he asked as he swung his legs out from under him and jumped down from the wreck, landing six meters on the ground below, his thick metal legs absorbing most of the impact. Around him, other mek's were busy poking around the wreck and the others examining tools they'd pulled from it. One particularly curious mek was looking at one of the orange glowy things they'd yanked off the bodies. Squinting one eye, a series of nine rough lens hovered in front of him, magnifying his sight and making his one eye seem enormous.

"Et's bin a lotta dayz Gobshack, I wanna know 'ow all dis 'ere stuff works!" the kaptin said impatiently. Like every time he spoke, it was more of a yell than a simple question or command. As Bludchoppa did this, his massive tricorne hat with a jolly ork tilted awkwardly to its side, which he fixed absentmindedly with a poke from his massive power klaw. Gobshack and the others had been working around the clock trying to figure out the strange technology they'd looted off the ship and how to orkify it to make it good and proper. No other vessels had appeared in the days after the fight, so this was the only loot they'd had to show for their troubles so far. Bludchoppa and the others were grousing about the miniscule ship and its lack of loot. All except the strange glowy bitz.

One of the days they'd taken a break from poking the wreck, a boy was snooping around the rear of the ship near its engines. They'd already found some kind of large sphere, but paid it little mind when it didn't do anything after a few good whacks. The boy started fiddling around with some kind of glowy panel near the sphere and somehow, caused it to start spinning. Once that happened, he'd started pressing more buttons and the sphere's speed of rotation became blinding fast. After a few minutes it began spewing some kind of strange blue glowing dust and sludge and started to affect the gravity around it, which they'd discovered when they found the boy had been compressed down to the floor, little more than a puddle of green and red goo.

"'Ell kapin, I fink you'll be likin what wez gotz 'ere" Gobshack grinned as he stepped toward a pile of crates. Curious after the boy had been turned to paste, the meks began looking for anything else on the ship that glowed blue and were surprised to find that the shootas the aliens used; hardly larger than a slugga in their hands, all used the same glowing blue parts found in the sphere. This had intrigued Gobshack immensely and he'd been fiddling around with the guns whenever he could, that and the piles of occasional blue dust they had the grots scoop up. Adjusting his bandoleer, he opened a small crate where they'd stored most of the small shootas they'd taken from the aliens. Peering in, dispute the red tint of his goggles, he found the main gun he'd been studying.

It'd retracted into a rectangular piece of metal, but after he touched the side, it unfolded itself with a smooth motion that reminded Gobshack of an Eldar weapon. The barrel protruded slightly, and a scope popped out from the middle portion of the block while a small stock extended backwards. The angles of the joints were rigidly straight and pointed, a lot like the weapons they looted off the 'umies. This particular shoota was about half the size of Gobshack's forearm, and when he handed it over to Bludchoppa, he lazily held it one hand as one would hold a slugga. Tilting it over to one side, the Kaptin sniffed it along the side.

"Dat dere shoota iz one of da one I fink got one or two of our boyz" Gobshack said as they looked at it. All in all, they'd lost about five boz in the assault, though one of two of them looked like they might have been taken out by ork weapons. The rest of the dead had been riddled with hundreds of small holes that'd cut into the them and were then stomped on by the others. That's what the doks said anyways, that the stompin did most of the killin. Still, better to make the Kaptin think the shootas were worth a lot more, which in different ways they were.

"Dis tiny fing?" Bludchoppa said disapprovingly, his large yellow teeth grimacing as he moved the shoota away from his nose. "Bah!" Raising it, he aimed it at a small group of grots being herded by a pair of smaller boyz towards the ship. The shoota rattled slightly as Bludchoppa held the trigger for several seconds. The gun tilted up for some of the burst as it recoiled slightly, but his large hands brought it back down and he kept it level as it fired. After a few seconds, a loud beeping could be heard as a pair of metal plates popped out of the side of the shoota and steamed for about as long as he'd fired it. Several grot lay on the floor, but the boyz were yelling.

"Ow!"

"Zog!"

Wot da...Oh..Good shot Kapin!"

Bluchoppa growled as he looked back down at the shoota, it'd finished beeping and the plates retracted. "Dats it?" he pointed at the grots laying on the ground "Jus a few grots? Dis fing aint got no powa!"

"On sec kapin" Gobshack said, his face pulled back in a grin, causing his cheeks to pinch against his goggle. "Oi ya two, git ova 'ere!" he yelled at the boys Bludchoppa shot. They marched over , a slight hesitation in their steps as they came to the mek. Blood was dripping for a number of small pinpricks all among their bodies, chest, arms, legs and even a few in each of their heads. Absentmindedly, Gobshack jammed a long pinkie klaw into one of the boys head wounds, the nail sunk in several inches until he tapped the boy'z skull.

"Ow!" the boy snarled, eyes narrowed at Gobshack.

"See kapin" Gobshack said, motioning with his boinik arm to his finger jammed in the boy'z head. "All da 'oles are lik dis! Each are small, but deres a lot of 'em and dats just from one shoota, fink about lots and lots of dem togetha, and fink about 'ow muc dakka dat un shoota 'ad!"

Bludchoppa paused after he'd huffed for a moment. Looking at the shoota again, he aimed it at the ceiling and fired another long continuous burst until the beeping could be heard once more and the shoota vented through the plates. His eyes widened slightly as he realized how many shots he'd poured out, but his mouth grimaced as the beeping continued.

"Dere might be da dakka Gobshack, but dez shootas stop firin after a few seconds. Dat right dere jus ain't proppa fer a shootta, et's gotta fire fer lotz o seconds it doz!". Even as he said this though, the kaptin's eyes returned to the shoota for a moment. Gobshack couldn't remember a time he'd seen the kaptin stay that still for so long.

" 'Ell dat deres da rub kapin. We can fix dem shootas to not stop firin, I poped one open to git a look at da bitz!" he said, pulling a small sack cloth out of the crate, opening it he spilled an assortment of parts on the ground. " 'Deres lots o connecty bitz, wires un otha stuff, but 'eres da interestin fings." he said holding up a block of metal which looked like it had been whittled down a bit, and a small clear container with a small amount of blue dust. Jiggling the block he continued "It seems like da boneez us…"

"Boneez, wots dat?" Bludchoppa interrupted

"Itz wot sum of da boyz 'ave bin callin da fings we fought, on acountin for da fact dat dey all boney an stuff an not all dat good fer eatin or anyfing really cept fightin. " Godshack grunted, glaring behind the opaque orange of his goggles. "Anywayz, da boneez seem ta not use ammo like us" he motioned again with the block of metal "Not like "bulitz" o "boltz", but ratha it looks like da shootaz takes bitz of metal 'ere and shoots it real fast!"

"'Owz dat possble-like?" Bludchoppa gestured, the alien shoota in his hand dangling from one finger which occupied much of the trigger guard, the kaptin looked it over, trying to find a magazine for the ammunition.

"Dats jus it kapin, I looked it ova, and deres waz no ammo or nufin. Stead its dis fing o metal. Now I first fought da boneez were right stupid and impropa, not using ammo boxes and stuff, but den I realized dey were using lectricity frough dez wires to go throgh a small fing o' blue stuff. I took da shoota half apart and fired, da blue stuff came ova the metal and I saw a bit o it move to da barel and it fired, o tried to, but could't on accountin fer da fact da I took half da shoota off."

"So dez shootas 'ave lotz o' dakka den if it just uses da metal?" Bludchoppa asked, his voice raised slightly as he did so. The shoota was now nestled in his arms.

"Dats right kapin, the shoota stop firin cause it gets real hot, but without da heat stoppas, it keeps right on firin, without a reload for probably lotz an lotz and lotz o shots. Without da stoppas, dese shootas got more dakka dan almost anyfing short o a deffgun or big shoota!" Fishing around the bottom of the crate, Gobshack pulled out another gun. Unlike the one held by the Kaptin, the front of this one was oblong and deformed, the barrel was curved at an odd angle and the plastics were melted together in an odd mismatch of dull grey and light colors. "Course, if wez keep firin without some kinda heat stoppas, dis 'appens."

"Urmph!" was all the Kaptin grunted as tapped his chin with the barrel of the new gun. "Well, eitha youz gonna need to make sum kinda special heat stoppa fer da shootas or wez gonna need ta mak lotz an lotz of deez shootas. If ya reconfigurate sum of dez insides to be moar orky an proppa wez shouldn't ave too much o a problem, afta all, all da good shootas get 'ot!"

"Fing iz kapin...we'z gonna need lotz and lotz o dat blue stuff da Bonnez 'ave, wifout it, wez cant make da special shootas!" Bludchoppa frowned and stopped tapping his chin. He returned the gun to a more comfortable grip in his hands, grabing the barrel with an audiable smack in his hands. Gobshack's eyes widened behind his goggles and he began to speak faster. 'Dis 'ere blu stuff is somfing special. It make stuff go fasta even thogh it ain't red, it 'its stuff 'harda even though it ain't black, it shoots more dakka even though it ain't yella. It's cuz blue is lucky! Fink 'bout it, des bonnez use dis stuff to do everyfing, its shootin more dakka faster and hittin stuff harder and more ofin. Only somfing real lucky could do somfing like dat all at once!" as he took a breath, he added "Plus dez dinky fings 'ardly make a sound, fink bout 'ow much stuff it could do if it made da proppa mount o' noise durin a fight!"

Bludchoppa grunted in annoyance, but his snarl softened a small bit and Gobshack breathed a bit easier. Looking back up to the Kaptin, he saw that his face had the rare placid look he wore when he was thinking up some kind of plan, one that required more than four or five days to execute. He rubbed his hands together eagerly, the last time he saw this look, they'd gotten the kroozer they now flew in.

"If wez be needin dis 'ere blue stuff to make supa shootas, den wez need to be fightin da bonnez! Dey 'ave da blue stuff and dey 'ave da fight. Da way I be seein it, wez be krumpin two grots wif one fist."

"Cept one fing kapin...wez don;t know were da bonnez ar!" Gobshack cautioned, raising both hands in a placating gesture.

"'Ell den git one of 'em ta tell ya were dey at. Whaterea Gobshack, stupid?" Bludchoppa growled, his teeth bared uncomfortable at the mek.

We only got one of 'em down in da pitz, da rest fought till dey died! Kapin"

"Hmmm, dey sound 'ard!" Bludchoppa said, smacking his hand against his power klaw. "All dat dinky stuff to fight wif and dey stiff fought? Dats good, dats real good, sike some of dem tiny 'umiez not . Where's da rest of em? The boyz are spolin for a fight!"

"Dunno boss. We're lookin at dem finky boxes in da ship, but it ain't got much, even afta we give em a good whack or two."

"Ah zog!" Bludchoppa roared, slamming the gun into the ground and shattering it into several pieces. Gobshack felt a slight smack as the broken stock of the rifle spun through the air and bounced off his goggles. The kaptain was stomping back and forth on his feet, each step echoing through the cavernous hold. "We can't jus keep flyin around all randomlike Gobshack, we'z be needin a spot ta be going, I ain't 'earin o no WAAAGHs round 'ere!"

Gobshack nodded and began digging around another crate tyring to find of the small orange glowing devices they'd found on the bodies. It'd been strange, they hadn't been feeling the small tugs in their bodies that helped them figure out where other boyz were fightin, it'd been uncomfortably still for the past several days, it made everyone antsy and more than one nob was complaining that all the sitting around with no notion of where fightin was, was "improppa" and "not-orky". If they couldn't fight a good fight soon, Bludchoppa's boyz might start fightin one another more often than they already did.

Pulling out one of the smaller finking box's from the crate, he shoved it into the hands of a nearby grot that was passing by and grunted at it while pointing with his metal hand. It jumped a half meter and then stood, poking at buttons on the device. "Dey also 'ad these smaller finking fings wif 'em, dere wern't much, but each 'ad some pictures and other fings dat might be good!" The grot pressed a button and a video began to play. The sound of loud, clashing music which resembled heavy drums being slammed while the screech of guitars filled the air as a montage of ships flying through space could be seen. Everything from sleek looking fighters, to large, boxy ships could be seen flying through space, each cut marked by another riff in the music. At the crescendo, rapid cuts show the ships approaching something that looked like a massive fork shaped void station with a spinning gyroscope of blue material in the center. In one long sequences, Gobshack and Bludchoppa watched as something that looked like lightning shot out from the device and engulfed the ships, which began to fly parallel with the station before vanishing in a flash of blue light. A second later, the cut went to another of the stations, and the pair watched as the ships appeared to the end of the musical number.

"I ain't neva seen nothin like dat blue spinny fing, wots dat?" Bludchoppa asked as strange text began to roll across the screen.

"Dunno kapin, but it seems like dat blue stuff is wot dez boneez use ta move n shoot."

On of the smaller mekboyz that was crawling along the outer edges of the ship's hull began to cut into the plates with a large circular saw. As the sparks erupted from the hull, a small gout of blue shot out from the ship's hull and engulfed the ork. Yelling in surprise, he was lifted upwards and floated away in a field of blue energy. Everyone looked at as he grunted and fidgeted uncomfortably for a half minute, when the field then dissipated suddenly. Falling like a green brick, he slammed into the hull of the alien ship with meaty smack, bouncing back up a foot or two and then sliding off the side. The mek got up slowly, his arm dangling at an awkward angle as the hanger erupted in a chorus of grunting jeers and laughs, even some of the bolder grots joined, their high pitched cackles sounding over the din. The mek roared and grunted in embarrassment as he sneaked off before a dok could find him.

Bludchoppa howled with the boyz of the hanger as the embarrassed mek left, once he was gone and the laughing stopped after another minute or two. Just as the hanger began to resume a normal level of activity, a scratching came in at Gobshack and Bludchoppa's ears.

"Oi! Kapin, Godshack, wez got somfing on da scannas! Looks like a small fleet o sum boxy ships or somfing. Dere not moving fast or nufin, but I fink dey mighta seen us cause dey turnin. Can we blast 'em?"

Bludchoppa smacked his powerclaw on the ground and howled a loud WAAAGH! which filled the hangar, the rest of the boyz joining in, unsure though at what was happening.

"Well botz, youz all wanted sumfing ta fight, and ole Bludchoppas dun found ya all somfing ta fight. Lets get ta lootin!"..

...

A loud boom woke Parvik from his rough, listless sleep. The aliens hadn't given him or the others any bedding, which was one of the least rough lessons he learned in his first day of being a slave. After his initial shock at seeing the mass of humans in the cavernous workshop, he was literally thrown over to one of the rowing bars by one of the aliens, who cracked a loud whip above his head and grunted towards the machine. Parvik had grabbed the bar uncertainly before his arms were nearly jerked out of their sockets as the other two humans at the bar began to row more vigorously, glaring at Parvik as he struggled to keep pace.

The boom sounded again as he struggled to his feet. He saw the humans around him were already scrambling to their stations, they bumped past him and paid him little mind, something he'd grown accustomed to. He'd tried to introduce himself to the two humans who'd been with him when he'd started rowing several days prior. He cursed himself for slacking off during the language seminar several months prior when they were taught basic words and phrases common in the human trade language. While universal translators in omni-tools made learning a whole new language not necessary, command had a habit of making everyone memorize enough of other species languages to at least form coherent greetings, warnings and commands. "Your equipment could fail at the worst possible moment and leave you stuck in an awkward moment" the human who'd run the seminar had said. Parvik remembered that the teacher and the students had the same bored look in the faces that said they all had better places to be. "But if your lungs and mouth ever fail then you're most likely dead." It sounded as forced and ridiculous coming out of the human's mouth as it had from all the other instructors who'd come in to give similar lessons for the asari, salarian and elcor. Apparently original jokes were in shorty supply across the whole damn galaxy.

He shook his head clear of the memory as he found his way to a rowing bar. He saw a familiar pair of humans giving him their usual glare. Bitterly, he grabbed the bar without a word. He still thought about their first meeting...

"Hello..." the word had sounded strange in his mouth, like a piece of food he didn't know whether to swallow or spit out. "I...Parvik...You?" he'd asked as he'd tried to make gestures his hands, hoping to emphasize some of the words. One nice thing about the humans was that many of their hand gestures were similar to the most of the Citadel species. His gesturing was rewarded with a cold hard punch to his gut at the two suddenly pulled the bar back, catching Parvik by surprise right in his stomach. As he wheezed, they glared at him more, one spat at him while the other muttered something in a language that sounded foreign to him, or at least more foreign than the human trade tongue already was. He didn't understand what they'd said, but he did hear one word he quickly learned was the favorite word many of the humans used to snarl, hiss, growl, scream, yell and laugh at him…"Xeno."

Another boom came, and Parvik realized it was the large, leathery looking drum that dangled above the chamber like a noisy chandelier. A pair of small green aliens, the kind that had striped him, took turns pounding the drum with sticks almost as large as they were. Ignoring the unfriendly duo of humans next to him, he began to row the familiar bar in front of him, his stomach growled audibly and he grimaced at his stomach pains. The one meal they had each day was thoroughly unpleasant. On the first day, he'd been surprised when one of the green aliens blew a loud whistle and Parvik was knocked over by his rowing companions as they and the rest of the slaves rushed towards one of the troughs built into the wall near the tube he'd entered from. As he got to his feet he saw a small cascade of brown, red, blue and green pour out of several of the smaller tubes. The humans began greedily shoveling as much of the stuff in their mouths as possible, pushing and shoving each other aside. By the time he limped over the piles were largely gone, save only a few bit and pieces of what he realized was some kind of fungus judging by the caps and stalks. He grimaced as he teasingly bit into a red mushroom. Chewing twice, he'd felt his face swell up a bit before he quickly spat it out. He tried the brown and green fungi next and felt his face grow fatter still. Grudgingly, he bit into the last one, a blue mushroom and mercifully felt nothing apart from the rubbery texture of the fungus which tasted like dirt and garbage mixed together. Looking down, he realized that the humans largely left the blue fungi alone.

"Should have probably lead with that one" he thought stupidly as he bent down and scarfed down a few more of the putrid things before he was almost knocked over by a rush of small green aliens. These ones were somehow smaller than the others who'd stripped him earlier, these ones only came up halfway to his leg. Their large eyes took up most of their faces as long, stick thin arms and fingers dug into the small fungus piles. He noticed that they shifted around a lot on their feet, like when a small child was anxious about something, The way they looked around the room reminded him of a herd of animals keeping alert for a predator. When one of the large aliens guarding Parvik and the others stomped its foot loudly, the little aliens jumped and began skittering around the floor, some climbing the walls while others moved towards other parts of the workshop. The alien who'd stomped gave what Parvik assumed to be a hearty laugh as the others joined him for a moment before he set his gaze on Parvik. Grunting loudly, he'd started unfurling his whip. Feeling his feet carrying him before he fully realized it, Parvik ran back to his rowing bar, only to see what looked like two new humans there, a male and a female. He'd assumed as much anyways, all the humans had a way of looking alike. These two were also about as friendly as the last bunch.

That had all been several days ago, he could only guess the time though as there was little in the way of any real time keeping apart from the alien's whistles. Once in a while the aliens would give two whistle blows and point to the floor, the slaves would then scramble and find their own preferred spots to lie down. Parvik had been elbowed out from under several tables before he'd settled on an empty patch of floor near the massive lift in the back of the chamber. He'd noticed that several of the humans who'd laid down near him scooted from him in every direction

He struggled to keep a yawn down as they rowed, he couldn't tell if his fatigue was from a lack of sleep since the alien's woke the slaves up at times as random as when they made them sleep. None of the humans would talk to him, and he knew better than to try his luck with one of the larger aliens. Apart from eating, he spent all his time doing manual labor. Most days he spent rowing at one of the bars; it reminded him of the vids he used to watch about the ships of old back on Palavan. He thought about the stories of the legendary Fourth Legion, the men and women who'd sailed the Leherus Sea, fighting pirates, and the Carrinax Empire. Only now instead of imagining himself as one of the mighty marines like when he was a boy, he thought grimly about the all the slaves who'd row those wooden monstrosities. The vids always liked to gloss over those guys apart from a shot or two showing them rowing as hard as they could while the ships careened into one another.

For the life of him, he had no clue as to why they were doing any of this. Apart from the massive spinning wheels people ran in to raise and lower the lifts, he couldn't see any devices connected to the rowing bars or other cranks, nothing which seemed to do anything. He knew there was far more to the ship than this large chamber, he still remembered the sensor reading telling how large the ship was, but the fact that so much space was devoted to this room bothered him, it was a though that never left him no matter how hard he'd rowed. The aliens had to have some kind of enormous power generators to keep their ship moving and keep all their crude devices powered as well. So why row? It made no sense, even the Batarians had practical uses for their slaves, and they wouldn't press gang hundreds of humans like this just to watch them exercise...

The drum beat increased steadily until the cadence became jerky and the rowers began to mimic the rapid, uneven pace. The lights dimmed as a loud humming sound could be heard from the front. A grunting roar could be heard over what he thought was some kind of PA system, which for these creatures was a series of pipes and tubes with irregular openings and conical pieces of metal to serve as rough microphones. After it spoke, the task masters began cracking their whips harder and with an uncomfortable rapidity. As his back began to tighten and ache from the rowing the lights dimmed once and a roar of triumph echoed through the ship. After several seconds, the loud angry voice came out of the pipes and tubes and the drums slowed and gradually resumed a normal rowing pace; much to the relief of Parvik and the others. He saw the humans dripping in sweat, creating small musty pools at their feet. His own mouth felt dry and he wondered if they'd get any water.

They did, though it was only about half an hour later when several sprinklers above their heads activated. Parvik was jostled once more as the human rushed forward, hands cupped as they collected small cups of water in their hands and drank greedily. A few fought over the drinking troughs which still sat half full for the day before. As he let the water fall into his mouth, he noticed something odd about the humans. He'd seen it on his second or third day too. Despite their overall hostility to him, the rest of the captives seemed more or less indifferent to their present situation. Every beating he saw was ignored by the others, every-time someone was dragged off either half unconscious or dead, they paid little heed. When the strange aliens stomped about, the humans usually did nothing but their jobs. It had reached the point that had they not been overtly negative towards Parvik, he would have though them addled or modified in some way to work within the ship. He though about all of that as the humans murmured quietly among themselves, he hadn't see them ever do that before. They congregated in groups of two to five and all were, despite seeming like they were slacking off, none were whipped or yelled at. The aliens too seemed somewhat casual, save for one or two strong arming the odd person. Their gestures and occasional turning of heads all pointed in one direction, the entrance tube...

A banging sound could be heard from it, it had been the same tube he'd been thrown down several days prior. As the humans were busy lapping up what was left of the water, Parvik stared at the dark mouth of the tube. Several of the larger aliens were also waiting, impatiently cracking their whips, and smiling their disturbing grin of mismatched gnarled yellow teeth sticking out in several directions as the grunted at the pipe. The thumping came closer and closer until out of the tube rolled several small round burgundy balls, the tumbled and bounced forward for several meters before slowing. One of the aliens had put up a foot and stopped the ball with his foot, grunting in annoyance as it slowly uncurled. Parvik heard a faint wheeze as the group of volus began to unfurl themselves from their protective posture...

 _A/N A special thanks to my new beta reader Flame Falcon for giving this chapter a good reading._

 _Edit: Also thank you Eipok for pointing out the strange spelling errors in the story, it turns out I uploaded the rough draft of this and not the final version. My bad._


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